Black Widow
by Cora Sinclair
Summary: The artifact has been caught but with Artie injured and Pete and Myka completely exhausted they have no choice but to stay at the lovely Cora's house. Cora and Artie seem to be getting cozy with each other but does she have any other motives? And how will the rest of the Warehouse team react to getting a new member?
1. Chapter 1

Sinclair's Note: Hello readers, I would like to explain that I have hijacked this account in order to tell you my story. You know me from the failed version of "Black Widow" which was so aptly named after me. You know me, you hate me, and my name is Cora Sinclair. I have ravaged the lives of men around the globe, moving from place to place finding new victims wherever I have gone. And now I am in a sleepy little town called Univille where my latest victim lies.

"_No matter how long we love each other, no moment on earth will be as long as the moment I lose you."_

_A.M.W. Philosopher & writer_

Translated from a dead language for your convenience.

They were dead. All of them dead with their blood splashed across the palace. The mere scent drove her into frenzy. She needed to find him, she had to find him. She couldn't survive this handmade hell without him.

Running at break neck speed she found him. The light of her life, her eternal flame, her beloved lover, Artemis on the floor of her and her husband's throne room. He was lying on his side. His blood seeping out of his soon to be lifeless body.

"Artemis!" she screeched

She fell to her knees as she came upon his body. She turned him over in hopes that she might prevent his ever quickening pace to Hades. She gasped as she saw a very familiar dagger stuck in his stomach between his ribs. Artemis groaned at being moved. He was ready to yell at whoever was disturbing his death when he saw the lovely and enchanting face of his lover, the Queen of Caria.

"My Love, y-you're here."

He reached out his hand to her. She took it gladly and pressed it against her cheek. His hand was so cold and his grip was weak.

"Yes I am here. Just relax, I will get you help. We'll see this through."

"You shouldn't have come. He is here and he has killed me."

"Don't talk like that. I don't care if he is here. He will know my wrath for this massacre."

Artemis let out a small chuckle as she stroked his pepper-grayed hair out of comfort. "I have no doubt my Queen that you will send him straight to Hades for his crimes but it will be a battle without me."

Tears began to swell in her eyes hearing the undeniable truth.

"You cannot leave me. You are all I have left. My children are slaughtered; my dear Helle's throat has been slashed."

Her tears fell to the blood stained floor. The images of her children, her babies' mangled bodies were too much to bear. Her husband of twelve years, his eyes wide open in horror because his throat was split wide open due to nothing but pure spite.

"Do not cry my love, you will survive this. You have always survived despite the odds."

"But will I live? Life is not worth living if I don't have you or my loved ones by my side."

Artemis shook his head against her argument and then gasped in pain. He could feel it, Death. Damn Thantos was coming too fast. He had so much to tell her but had so little time.

"My Love, as much as I would love to talk my time here is short."

"Do not speak like that. You will get better and we shall see him destroyed. Just don't die, please do not die. You're all I have left."

She grasped his hand harder and choked back her tears.

"We'll meet again, in another life perhaps."

"No, no Artemis please...don't..."

"I'm so sorry."

"Artemis?"

"I'm so sorry..."

"No..."

"So...sorry..."

He heard her cries and screams as he slipped away. He hoped more than anything that she would be okay. The Queen of Caria sobbed over the body of her Artemis. She had lost everything. Her family and now her lover was gone. Her once glorious palace was now in shambles from the coup. Everything and one was either gone or in ruin. Everything except her. She had survived whether she liked it or not.

Lost in her grief she barely noticed that someone was watching her. He stood before her, still stinking with the blood of his victims.

"My dear lovely Queen," he spoke so quietly that it scared her. "You should not weep, the bugs that once plague your life are now gone."

All the courage that she once possessed was gone. He was not a normal man; he was a monster, a demon, some nasty piece of slime that slithered up from the darkest pits of Tartarus just to torment her.

"How could you?" she cried, "How could you?"

"My Queen I did it for you because I love you and I love you to death." he smiled

"Then KILL ME!" she demanded, "Kill me like you killed everyone else in my life!"

He forced her up by grabbing her wrist. He put his hand around her skinny waist and pulled her close to him. She squirmed at his touch.

"My Love, I would dare not mar your beautiful skin with a dirty blade or the tip of an arrow. You are by far too exquisite. A treasure like you needs to be in perfect condition forever."

"I don't wish to be in perfect condition! I want my family! I want my Artemis back!"

A blood chilling laugh came from him.

"You want him back?"

He motioned over Artemis's still fresh body.

"He is filth compared to you."

"So are you." she growled

Her insult seemed to faze him but he recovered.

"My love such petty remarks are beneath you. Now join me and become my Queen. We can rule over mankind!"

"You dare ask me to be your Queen when the love of my life lays dead not two steps away from me?!"

She slapped him and sent him staggering backwards onto his backside. He got up in no time and brushed himself off.

"I'll give you one more chance. Become my Queen and rule the world or-"

"Or you get out of my sight before I kill you." she seethed

It was an empty threat. She didn't have the emotional reserve or the physical strength to kill. She was spent.

He smiled and bowed before her.

"If that is what you want me to do then I will comply but know this my lovely Queen no matter how far you run or how many years pass I will find you. And sooner or later I will have you no matter how many proletariats I have to kill."

"Get out!"

He bowed once more before leaving the broken Queen of Caria to mourn over her loved ones.

Sinclair's Note: Please PM or leave a review. The next chapter will be up in five days, be patient.


	2. Chapter 2

Sinclair's Note: Welcome back again to the revised version of Black Widow. I must announce that to save time and get chapters out faster some material will be reused. Oh, and I stress this part more than anything else; that Vanessa woman will does not exist and will not be appearing in this story. So sorry to disappoint Arthur/Vanessa fans but Arthur is mine. Many thanks to previous reviewers and to KJay99 for being just an excellent mentor and friend.

* * *

It was a dreary, cloudy, rainy sort of April day for the small secret governmental town of Univille, South Dakota U.S.A. It was just one of those days where instead of going to work you would rather curl up with a good book ( or comic book, depending on who you asked) in front of the fire and munch on one of Artie's cookies. But sadly when you worked for Warehouse 13, taking impromptu days off was a no go; especially when the world was in constant danger due to someone either misusing, abusing or in many cases accidently activating an artifact with the power to do God knows what.

Which is why agents Myka Bering, Pete Lattimer, Steve Jinks, and junior agent Claudia Donovan were sitting in the living room of Leena's Bed and Breakfast instead of the patio; it was just so depressing to see the rain hit against the clear crystal windows and their white washed frames.

On the bright side at least everyone was trying to keep themselves entertained until Arthur Nielsen, more commonly known to all as Artie, arrived to give them their evidence folders for whatever insane case they were about to receive. Pete Lattimer a rugged but clean shaven ex-Secret Service and ex-Marine was squatting at one end of the coffee table at the center of the room. In his hands was a small handmade paper football, he flicked across the coffee table and it soared through the air and landed right between the improvised goal post that was Steve Jinks' index fingers and thumbs.

Steve Jinks a newly recruited ex-ATF agent smirked as Pete scored another point in their game. Agent Steve Jinks was a tall lean but muscular man who had the uncanny ability to tell when someone was lying. Though he was new to Warehouse 13 and its constant stream of oddities, he adapted quite quickly to the madness that most of its agents called home.

"And Pete scores one in! The crowd goes wild. Aahhh…." Commented Claudia who was sitting comfortably if not awkwardly in one of the dark green upholstered armchairs that was next to the couch

Claudia was a nineteen year old young hip techno genius who could hack into any government agency if you were to give her a few minutes. It was her hacking ability that gave her, her job at Warehouse 13 after she had kidnapped Artie and forced him to help her rescue her brother Joshua from an inter-dimension. After some poking and prodding from Leena, Artie agreed to let her stay at the Warehouse and become his apprentice. Claudia had a violent shade of red hair that was paled in comparison by a bang of hair that was dyed a different color every day. Today's color was a striking tint of midnight blue that only made her stand out even more in the dismal downpour.

Pete laughed at Claudia spectator commentary, but was quieted instantly as Jinks flicked the paper football through his goal and between his eyes.

"Good shot." Said Pete as he readied himself for a comeback move

"Thanks." Replied Jinks as he reassumed his faux goal posts

Pete took a shot for Jinks but missed and ended up hitting his partner, Myka Bering, close to her right eye.

"Pete!" she chided as the harmless paper toy fluttered away from her and onto the floor

Pete grinned sheepishly to his partner as she returned to book. Myka was curled up on the tan couch reading Shakespeare's classic tale _Romeo and Juliet_, for what seemed to be the millionth time. Her beautiful brown mini curls bounced up and down as she read the book and Jinks swearing that he saw her finish that book last night asked

"I thought you were reading King Lear?"

Myka put down her book "I would if I could but _somebody-_"Myka shot the mother of all death glares at Pete "-hadn't lost it last night at the Warehouse."

Pete put his hands up in defense and said "I swear it's in there somewhere, we'll find it! Eventually….."

Myka glared and went back to her book. Myka Bering like Pete was an ex-Secret Service agent who got reassigned to the Warehouse after a brush with an ancient Aztec bloodstone, who used its power to control a museum worker to try and kill the President. But unlike Pete who usually went on gut feelings and instinct, Myka was strictly by the book and highly observant to her surroundings. Together the two agents were an unstoppable force when it came to snagging, bagging, and tagging artifacts.

Claudia heard the front door to Leena's Bed and Breakfast being open and close.

"Boss man's here!" she said as she swung her legs around and put herself into a proper position lest Artie reprimand her for acting like a relaxed teenager.

In a few seconds Artie appeared in the entrance of the living room, he was covered up in a thick black jacket but that proved to be ineffective against the harsh rain. He was soaked to the bone but nevertheless he went on with his job to dispensing the cases.

"Good morning agents." He said wearily as he put his jacket on the hat rack

Artie was the Warehouse's supervisor and cryptographer. He had been recruited to the Warehouse somewhere in his early 20's after selling artifacts to the Soviet Union. After he was told what the objects he was selling really were, he turned himself in to the American government where he was then stuck with the Warehouse but labeled as a spy by the Russian government. If he were ever to go back to Russia he would be charged for treason and would probably be jailed or put to death.

Artie was wearing his standard tan corduroy jacket over a black shirt. Myka moved over to let her boss take a seat on the couch, Artie dug through his bag and handed out evidence folders to Pete, Myka, Claudia, and Jinks.

"Old people are dying in a retirement home, called Golden Years in Sinton, Texas."

Pete began to hum David Bowie's 'Golden Years' but stopped once Myka gave him a light hit to his chest. Claudia looked skeptically at the report before tossing it back down to the coffee table.

"Um…Artie? That doesn't sound like an artifact case; that sounds like life."

Artie raised a pudgy finger to contradict her "It's the rate at which they are dying; the normal pace at which their residents die is about one maybe two per month, if that, but now they've got eight sometimes ten dying."

"Sorry but no sale; how do we know that it's an artifact and not…I dunno, the place getting more sick people?" asked Jinks

"I looked up each and every resident who died and they had varying conditions across the board. Some of them had minor conditions like the flu, type two diabetes to serious health problems like chronic heart failure, pneumonia, and septic."

"So people who shouldn't be dying are dying." Simplified Myka

"Correct. So, Pete, Myka here are your plane tickets; contact me when you reach the lone star state."

* * *

_One incredibly boring and uncomfortable flight later…._

The weather had not improved in the slightest; in fact it had gotten worse. April was Texas's prime tornado season and with the ominous swirling black clouds and threatening thunder outside it was surely an omen of things to come. Pete and Myka were already on their two hour drive to Sinton with the AC on high and Myka was keeping on the weather.

"You think it would kill Artie to get us decent seats for once?" grumbled Pete as he popped his back with an audible POP! "Oh! I'm gonna feel that in the morning…."

"Talk to him not to me; besides be happy that we didn't have to drive here." Replied Myka as she took her eyes off the sky for a minute

He shuddered at the thought of an eighteen hour drive in this weather; at least he was able to catch a couple of z's on the plane. Pete drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, bored to the bone. They had been driving about two hours and the jet lag was really starting to catch up to him. He turned onto a gravel road and to their right there was a broken down sign with peeling white paint that said in faint letters "Welcome to Sinton!"

"Finally!"

"Wow…this place is smaller than Univille." Commented Myka

Sinton was about half the size, and that was being generous, of Univille with 75% of their population of 400 being senior citizens. It had just one main road and roughly a dozen dirt roads that snaked off onto more dirt roads and privately owned farmland.

"Do you see our motel?" asked Pete it started to bucket down

Myka craned her neck to and fro, trying to see through the torrent. She finally spied their 'humble' motel which was on top of a hill which was littered with dead trees. A single lone sign braved the rain and in broken neon lights did it shine "Plainfield Hotel". Their car stopped only a few feet away from the motel.

"Why did the car stop?" whispered Myka as lightning flashed across the sky and outlined the motel in a manner that belonged to a horror movie

"It's frightened." Whispered back Pete

The two Warehouse agents glanced at each other before they left the safety of their car and dashed through the rain to get inside. Panting from his run like a marathoner, Pete took his brief rest to look around the inside of the motel. Think of every horror film you've ever seen with a hotel being the one of the main places where the serial killer hangs out and then you will have captured what Pete saw.

The ceiling was dripping from the rain, the walls had numerous cracks that were shoddily repaired or hidden with simply grotesque portraits and paintings. There was no one behind the desk as the Warehouse agents walked over the weak and old wooden floor.

"Myks, if the guy who runs this place lives with his mom, we are so leaving." Murmured Pete as he leaned against the service counter.

"You don't have to worry, sir." Replied a raspy voice

Pete and Myka whipped around and saw a skeletal like man standing behind the service counter.

"My mother has been dead since I was 39."

The man had a thin face and you could easily see his cheekbones. A patch of sandy straw like hair covered his head. He had large sunken black eyes; his stare was uncomfortable and both Pete and Myka wished that he would blink to at least prove he was still to some extent human.

"My name is Rodger Plainfield. How may I help you?"

"W-We have a reservation here." Replied Pete

"Oh yes." He gave them a horrible smile that showed off all of his rotten teeth "We've been expecting you."

Rodger crept out from the counter and led them down a long and foreboding hallway. Their room was the last one at the end of the hallway but by the time they were halfway there Pete was already looking like a cage animal trying to find a way to escape from this hell. The door groaned as it was pushed opened. Pete and Myka rushed in to get away from the no doubt serial killer in training.

"Oh my God I'm going to kill Artie." Fumed Myka

"Maybe you can get Mr. 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre' to help you." Said Pete as he sat down on the surprisingly soft and comfy bed

Artie's ear must have been burning because their Farnsworth started to buzz. Pete was the one who flipped the ancient device open where he was greeted by a scowling Artie's black and white face.

"I told you two to call me when you landed!" he hissed

Pete held the Farnsworth at an arm's length to spare himself from Artie's verbal lashing but Myka quickly took it away from him.

"Artie I can't believe you! Do you know where we are?!" barked Myka

"Aren't you in North Texas? Did you miss your flight?" replied Artie who was completely sincere

"No, we're in North Texas and we're also in horror movie hell!"

Artie looked puzzled "What?"

Pete shared the Farnsworth with Myka "Artie we're in Norman Bates's hotel. Get us out of here before we get made into furniture."

The older man rolled his eyes "Stop being dramatic. The hotel is perfectly fine. What have you learned?"

"Nothing; we just got here."

"Well get out of there! Another person just died."

Myka shoved Pete out of the Farnsworth view.

"Who died?"

"A Mr. Bernard Rochelle, age sixty-four cause of death was cardiac arrest."

"Did he have a condition or anything?" asked Pete

"He had a broken leg and was on the mend. For further information on him you might want to start interviewing the people at the retirement home."

Artie shut off his Farnsworth and the connection was severed. Pete and Myka looked to each other.

"You're driving." He said dryly

* * *

Sinclair's Note: Please PM or leave a review. The next chapter will be up in two days, be patient.


	3. Chapter 3

Sinclair's Note: It is wonderful to see that this story has taken off so well. I hope you all continue to enjoy it.

After getting lost twice while driving through gushing rain they finally made it to Golden Years retirement home. It was a russet colored three story home with a wrap-around porch and navy blue trim. There were dozens of dying rose bushes that surrounded the edifice. If the wind blew any harder than the dead shrubbery be blown into the next state. To the right of the retirement home was a separate white washed two story building with grey shingles and even more rose bushes. Pete could barely make out the sign on the structure that read "Burns Crematorium: established: 1885, over 2043 served." Talk about morbid….Pete mad a mental note to try and finish this mission as soon as possible. Everything about this town just felt like it was the scene of a slasher film. As they raced towards the porch for cover Myka noticed that light could be seen shining from only one window on the first floor all the other were dark. That was odd; it was around five, maybe five-thirty at most, but they only one light on? Very strange….

They entered the retirement home and were greeted with a warm blast of air. It was hot, nearly sweltering; they had to take their jackets off instantly when they got in.

"It's 90 outside." Whispered Pete "they have the heat turned up like the next ice age is coming."

Myka shrugged her shoulders.

"It's warm, most elderly people like it warm."

"You don't like it warm." Snarked Pete

"I don't need it to be warm and neither do you, after all you have enough personal insulation." Smirked Myka as she patted his stomach

Pete laughed sardonically as they walked over to the counter "Good one! What did it take you; Five years?"

Myka just smiled and replied "Five years shorter than any comeback you would have thought of."

They stopped their playful jabs at each other calling it even as they approached the receptionist's desk. There was no one there but a little service bell and a small sign that read "Ring bell if service needed."

Pete shrugged at Myka and rang the bell twice. Nothing happened. Myka rang the bell twice still nothing happened. He sighed and along with Myka sat down on the overstuffed and frankly ugly and bumpy chairs.

"What do you think is going on?"

"I don't know Pete. You think there would be some sort of commotion if someone died."

"If there's an artifact causing deaths then maybe the death looks natural?"

"What about those who didn't have a life threatening condition and died? Is it randomly targeting people or what?"

"Don't know what to tell ya Myks but I do know one thing."

"What's that?"

"That we're not waiting around while somebody is using an artifact to kill people, come on."

They stood to get up and explore the home when they heard someone shout to them

"Oh wait! Don't leave! I'll be with you in a minute!"

The voice was annoying to say the least, sounded like nails on a chalkboard, but there was that distinct thick Texas accent. Pete and Myka looked to the left of the reception area where there was a set of stairs. A heavy set woman who looked to be in her late forties came down. She was wearing this petrifying purplish-pink muumuu with jumbles of magenta colored jewelry that danced every time she moved.

"My name is Mary-Anne Gunness!" She shook Pete and Myka's hands vigorously.

The Mary-Anne didn't look too bad from a distance but once she got up close and personal to Pete and Myka it was a different story.

For starters Mary-Anne had a nose as long a diving board with envy green eyes that were over shadowed by too much black eyeliner and hideous purple eye shadow. She had on so much makeup on that it looked as though it could be peeled off her face. There was a fine network of wrinkles and crow's feet already on her slightly sagging face but the most distinguishable feature about Mary-Anne had to be her hair. She had dark red hair that was about as tall as Marge Simpson's and fell unto a thousand unruly curls. This woman would definitely stick out in a crowd or anywhere else for that matter.

To Pete he thought that she looked like a bad knock off of a Southern belle while to Myka she thought that she looked like a clown who escaped from the circus.

"Don't tell me, let me guess." Began Mary-Anne, "You're here to sign in a relative who can no longer take care of themselves."

"Uh no." replied Pete

"Oh? Oh of course how foolish of me. You're here to surprise a dear loved one to live in our tiptop facility as a birthday present."

"Wrong again." Said Myka

Mary-Anne pouted "Then how may I help you two lovely couple?"

"Oh no, no. We're not a couple." Explained Myka

"You're not?" asked Mary-Anne who looked like she just won the lottery. "Well then young lady would you mind if I were to ask your strapping young friend here for a courtship?"

Pete paled and looked as if he were about to faint.

"Sorry but he's engaged." She lied quickly and earned a grateful glance from Pete

"I thought you said you two weren't a couple?" asked Mary-Anne putting her very large mannish hands on her oversized hips

"We're engaged to be engaged. It's not easy trying to plan a wedding while working for the government." Said Pete getting in on the ruse

Mary-Anne's face was already fairly pale but now it was blanch. She recovered quickly and asked

"You both work for the government?"

"Yep, I.R.S."

Mary-Anne twitched but kept her composure.

"What does the I.R.S. want with our little cozy 'Golden Years'?"

"It's nothing serious; we just need to talk to the residents about some new disabilities checks they can earn but we'll also need to talk to you."

She swallowed the lie but responded "You must understand that it's quite late for our residents and most of them are already prepared for bed and I am really busy at this moment so…"

"It'll only take a moment; do you have an office we can talk in?"

Mary-Anne nodded and led Pete and Myka into her office. It was lavishly decorated with all of the best things. Mary-Anne sat behind her desk and allowed the agents to sit in front of her. It would take some maneuvering to get them to leave without talking to her little patients. Myka pulled out a pen and a notepad ready to take notes while Pete pulled out the case file he had hidden in his jacket.

"How long have you been in charge of Golden Years?"

"For the past seven years."

"How did you come to own Golden Years?"

"Family business; my father owned it and passed it onto me when he died."

"Have you noticed anything unusual in those five months?"

"Anything unusual? Hmm…well no I can't say that I have…."

"Has there been any reconstruction since you were here; anything been unearthed?"

"No Golden Years has remained the same since it was established."

"Has anything new been brought into here? Like an antique or maybe some furniture."

"No, we're not very wealthy here. Most of our patients can barely afford the care."

"By any chance are you losing more residents than you usually do?"

"Oh no, see most of our residents are quite old and have some very serious medical conditions."

"And the ones that don't?" asked Myka sharply

"If our own doctors can't tell why, how do you expect me to?"

"Thank you for your time we'll need to speak to the residents now."

"Oh I would prefer if you wouldn't bother them."

"We're not going to bother all of you residents; we have a list of people we need to talk to. Is Bernard Rochelle still up?"

"I'm so sorry but Mr. Rochelle passed away," she paused to look at her wristwatch. "Almost an hour ago."

Both Pete and Myka's stomachs clenched when Mary-Anne told them about Rochelle's death. They knew he was dead but it was how Mary-Anne said it; she seemed to get a kick out telling them.

"Then can we go up to his room, please? Talk to his roommate?"

"I really don't think that it's necessary-"

"Well we do. Show us his room."

Mary-Anne showed them to the second floor where Rochelle's room was. She told them that he had a roommate whose name was Edward Riley, age sixty, who was suffering from Alzheimer's disease. She was quite persistent about the fact that he wouldn't be any help to them and that the odds of him being anywhere near useful was nil to none. The hall lights were off completely and the only lights that could even be seen were the ones coming from the cracks of the senior's rooms.

"Why are all the lights off?" asked Myka

"Taking care of our seniors costs a pretty penny so we have to implement cost cutting measures. For instance we have all the windows covered to keep the heating bill low, most of our medical staff is home by four, and the hall lights are to be off by five p.m. sharp."

"What if they don't want to stay in their rooms or if they want to go out for a walk? Is it safe with all the lights off?"

"Everyone is in their rooms by five also; we wouldn't want anybody to have any accidents." She replied with an odd sort of happiness

They walked down the blacked out hallway until they came to the last door. Myka could hear people talking and laughing inside. Even though the conditions of the home were miserable at least everyone sounded happy.

Mary-Anne opened the door and let Pete and Myka in with her. The room didn't look like a relaxing peaceful senior citizen's room, it looked like a cell. There were only two hospital-like beds and a rickety looking nightstand on each side of them. The walls were bare and there was only one window which was covered. This room sucked! But Myka mused that at one point in time the room must have been a little bit welcoming. Under the buzzing lights she could barely make out a faint square outline. Something must've been hanging there back when natural lights were allowed.

Pete saw a crippled old man lying in a hospital bed laughing with a young lady who looked dazzling. The wizened old man had white hair and looked as though he weighed about ninety pounds. In other words he looked like every other old man you would see on the street but the young woman on the other hand was absolutely spectacular. She looked to be in her late twenties and for lack of a better word she was simply drop dead gorgeous. Every feature of this young woman was perfect. Her brown hair had two long bangs that curved around her face and framed it like a Renaissance painting. She had large luminous eyes that seemed to magically sparkle despite the low fluorescent lights in the room. Her pearly white smile, which seemed to hold signs of a clever and brilliant mind as she smiled, contrasted greatly her flawless tan skin.

In Pete's mind she was a total babe and he wanted to know everything about her. But right now he would settle for her name.

"Cora!" Barked Mary-Anne

Cora. What a breathtaking name; it suited her.

The newly named Cora gasped as she looked up. She smiled pleasantly at the new people in the room and asked

"Oh Ms. Gunness! Hi, how are you?"

Mary-Anne ignored her question and told her "Cora these are agents….um I don't think I ever caught your name."

"Pete Lattimer and Myka Bering." Explained Myka

"Agents Lattimer and Bering are here with the I.R.S. and they would like to talk to Mr. um….Mr…"

The man lying in bed scowled at her but Cora quickly covered for her.

"You must be really over worked; you're starting to forget people's names. Isn't that right Mr. Riley?"

Mr. Riley sneered at Mary-Anne "Maybe if she got off her fat ass every now and then…."

Pete laughed while Myka hid a smile; Riley was awesome!

"Edd!" scolded Cora with small grin

"I'm just saying!"

Mary-Anne was livid "Cora I think that it would be best if you gave Mr. Riley his sleep medication for the night."

"I'm not taking me medication and don't talk to me like I'm not here." He barked

Mary-Anne left the room in a huff. Cora turned to Edd and said

"You really shouldn't have said it Edd."

"Psh. That woman is a monster, she deserves it."

"Edd…" cooed Cora "Come on…"

He buckled under Cora batting her lovely eyes at him "Alright, I'll apologize to her."

"Wonderful! Now let me go get your medication for the night and I'll let you talk to these nice agents."

Cora was about to leave the room when she turned back and asked Pete

"I'm really sorry but while I'm down there I have to move some heavy boxes to get to the medication and with the lights out I'm a little scared; could you please help me?"

Pete nodded eagerly much to Riley's chagrin.

"Myks, you wanna handle the interview?"

"Sure, don't fall down the stairs!"

Pete only laughed as he keenly followed Cora out into the hallway. Riley grumbled unhappily as Cora disappeared from his sight.

"Are you okay?" asked Myka

"Fine as I can be right now. I just want Cora to come back…."

"She'll be back soon, now I need to ask you a few questions concerning your roommate Bernard Rochelle."

"Alright what do you want to know?"

"Do you know if he recently came into or touched anything new or unusual?"

"No. Bernard mostly stayed in here recovering."

"Was there anyone he was really close to?"

"Cora." He replied instantly in a lovelorn tone "But everyone is close to Cora; she's perfect."

"Did Cora pay more attention to him than normal?"

"She didn't want to, see I'm her favorite but Bernard had some complications from his leg."

"What did she do for him?"

"Wheeled him around, fed him, and helped him use the restroom. The poor guy was helpless; he didn't want to live."

"Why?"

"His wife, Edith, was in here before him. She had terminal cancer and the family couldn't take care of her, so they stuck her in here."

"That's horrible." Said Myka sympathetically; she knew that having a family member be terminal could put a strain on a family but… "Why didn't they just let her die in home?"

"Too expensive, would damage the resale value." Said Riley "It was just cheaper to move her here. Bernard visited Edith every single day but one day he didn't show."

"What happened?"

"Last February he slipped on some ice when going for a walk. Nobody found him for three hours and thirty minutes, he almost died. It scared him and it scared Edith. He thought he was in excellent health but just like her, he got stuck in here too."

"How come?"

"Remodeling the home for his needs was just too much for them. They weren't rich folks but they were doing okay. So the home got sold and he was moved in here."

"What next?"

"Cora was tending to her needs, she left the room, and Edith left the building. Bernard was asleep next to her when it happened. He never got a chance to say goodbye. Edith dying like that just killed him; he didn't care what happened to him anymore."

"That's when Cora started to help him?"

"Yeah. She didn't want to though; she wanted to be with me. Poor Cora felt guilty about Edith dying so she spent more time with him than with me…."

"Oh…."

"When do you think she'll be back?"

"Who? Cora?"

He nodded fervently. "Yes, I miss her!"

Myka nodded "Was she with Bernard when he died?"

"Yep. She was giving him an injection of something, he went to sleep and then next thing I know the docs are wheeling him outta here with a white sheet over him."

Pete followed close to Cora as they maneuvered their way through the darken hallways. He wanted to know more about her. There was something fascinating about her that he just couldn't place. He kept getting this weird vibe from her. It wasn't ominous or anything but it was odd; she seemed so guilty but about what he had a pretty good clue.

"So do you do this sorta thing often?" asked Pete as he and Cora trekked through the utterly dark hallways

"I don't know what you mean-OH! Watch your step, there's this bit that'll trip you."

"Got it, thanks. What I mean is walking in the dark to get some meds."

"Oh yeah, I do this all the time. Mary-Anne is just too cheap to keep the lights on."

"So what's it like working here?"

"Okay I guess it can be hard sometimes when, you know, someone dies."

"I heard you lost another person tonight."

"Yes, Bernard died from a heart attack it was horrible. I was there when it happened."

"Oh so what happened?"

"I was giving him some pain relief meds and I swear I only left his room for a couple of minutes. I didn't think he would die so suddenly like that he was only here for a broken leg. If anything went wrong anything at all I don't know why he wouldn't ask for help from the other two doctors in the room with him."

"Really? What were they doing?"

"I don't know. Hold on, we're at the basement. Give me one second to find the lights."

Cora found the switch and suddenly there was light! It looked like any regular old basement. There was an old couch, some exercise equipment that hadn't been used in a while, even a few paintings that were covered to be protected from the dust and of course in the basement there were dozens of boxes stacked among each other.

"Here" Said Cora as she handled Pete some gloves, "If you're gonna be handling the meds you gotta be protected."

"That's okay," replied Pete "I brought my own."

"Aw, you got purple? I want purple gloves…"

Pete tossed her a pair "Thanks!"

As they were moving the boxes around Pete accidently knocked over one of the paintings.

"My bad!"

He lifted it back up and grimaced once he saw it. The painting was a gruesome sight. It was a very detailed showing of a decapitated man's head on a plate with an apple in his mouth. His eyes were still open and in pain. His body that was still bleeding was sitting behind him being operated by a roman soldier who was holding his hands which held a carving knife and fork. To the right of the severed head was a civilian's hat that acted as a bowl for the side dish that was religious symbols. To the left was the other side dish bowl that was a soldier's helmet and was filled to the brim with ammunition. The salt and pepper shaker were bombs and after taking it all in Pete exclaimed

"No offense whoever bought this but this is crap."

"Yeah I know."

"I mean this is ick, this is burning material."

"Trust me it has crossed my mind to do so but once Mary-Anne buys something she is very reluctant to let it go."

"Why the hell did she buy this?" asked Pete as he gestured to the painting

"Bare walls and covered windows does not a cozy retirement home make."

"Then why is it down here?"

"The residents found it offensive for some weird reason." Said Cora as she rolled her eyes

"I don't blame them."

"Yeah…well come on let's get the meds and get out of here."

Cora pulled the cover back over the painting and put it back in the far corner.

"Is it safe for the medication to be stored like this?"

"No but Mary-Anne won't listen to me when I ask her if we can get a real storage facility."

Cora and Pete locked eyes and Cora looked away embarrassed.

"So are you seeing anybody?" he asked boldly

"Me? No there isn't anybody right now."

"Then how about you and me-"

"Look Pete, from what I can tell you're a nice guy but I'm afraid you're not really my type."

Pete was crestfallen but still asked "So what is your type?"

Cora laughed. "You're good I'll give you that."

Sinclair's Note: I will admit that Pete is quite attractive but honestly I don't go for men like him. I prefer them well aged, with a brilliant mind for history and not a lot of family. I find other people simply irritating when you're trying to date.


	4. Chapter 4

Sinclair's Note: thank you all for the reviews

Riley was fidgeting in his bed, constantly looking towards the door. It had been roughly twenty minutes since Cora had left with that I.R.S. agent and that was twenty minutes too long. What if that agent had done something rotten to Cora? Was she alright? The tension was killing him; he needed to know where Cora was and if she was in danger. He looked to Agent Bering sitting on his right, jotting down notes. She had stopped the interview short but why he didn't know why. Was she concerned about her partner? Was he dangerous? Could Cora possibly be in trouble due to him? Riley couldn't take it anymore; he had to know.

"I'm sorry but do you know where your friend is?"

His tone was soft and polite; he was wracked with worry over his missing Cora. Myka glanced up from her notepad and said

"I'm pretty sure he's with Cora."

"Yes I know that." He snapped losing his temper "But where exactly is he?"

Myka shrugged "I don't know; probably the basement."

Riley whined that wasn't good enough for him. He wanted a better answer.

"Does he have a record of being violent? Any abuse towards women, like Cora?"

Myka stared at Riley, curious to his line of questioning. "Uh….no. Pete wouldn't dream of hurting anyone…especially someone like Cora."

There was a moment of silence as Riley contemplated this new information. Agent Bering seemed sure that Agent Lattimer wouldn't dare hurt Cora but still….

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure, he's harmless." Replied Myka in a slightly bored tone

Another moment of silence.

"You're absolutely sure?" he asked, sitting on pins and needles

"Absolutely sure."

"Without a doubt?"

Myka was growing understandably weary of Riley's questioning.

"Without a doubt, now has anything strange or abnormal during these last few days?"

"You mean besides Cora not being around?"

"Yes!" nodded Myka who was more than happy to change the subject from Cora, "Was there anybody else who helped take care of Bernard during his final days?"

"Doctors George Swango and Leopold Bell."

Myka began to write again on her notepad.

"What can you tell me about them?"

"Swango is about your age maybe a bit older. He's got big muscles and looks like an over inflated Superman model." Riley scowled "He keeps hitting on Cora but she doesn't like him. Bell is in his sixties and I don't think he's all there." Riley tapped on his head for emphasis

Myka's brow furrowed "Is he incompetent?"

"He forgets stuff but he signs off on the death certificates and does the autopsies. He's an okay man sometimes he wanders around for a couple of hours but once there's an emergency he jumps into action."

Myka put pen to pad and made a mental note to ask Artie to check on Bell's medical records for her.

"What were they doing for Bernard?"

"Checking charts, taking his temperature basic stuff."

"You never saw them give him anything like an old watch or maybe a bracelet?"

"No."

Myka sighed; she was going nowhere with this. The door squeaked opened and there stood Cora.

"Cora!" exclaimed Riley happily "You're back!"

"Yep I'm back and it's time for your meds. Sorry guys but the interview is over."

Myka got up from her seat next to Riley and walked over to where Pete was. "That's okay I've gotten plenty of information. Thank you for your time Mr. Riley."

"Not a problem Ms. Bering."

Myka and Pete shook hands with Cora and then proceeded to leave. The lights were dimly on and on the way down they caught Mary-Anne going up.

"Leaving?"

"Yes but we'll be back tomorrow."

"You will? Alright I'll make sure our residents will cooperate with you in the future."

"Mr. Riley was very cooperative and-"

"Don't worry darlin' I'll make sure the message gets across."

Mary-Anne went up and once she was out of earshot Myka turned to Pete.

"We gotta talk."

Pete and Myka waited until they were back at the hotel to talk. They arrived around eight and to their pleasure the serial killer in training wasn't there. A bolt of lightning flashed outside and illuminated the two agents inside. Myka was busy at the desk rewriting her notes while Pete was busying using a multitude of paper cups to stop the numerous leaks coming in from the ceiling. He got up from his knees and proudly looked over his work. Pete turned to Myka and asked

"What did you learn from talking to Riley?"

"Cora was taking care of him full time after his wife, Edith, died from cancer. Riley also told me that Bernard was severely depressed and needed help with the most basic things."

Pete sat up when he heard this. "That's rough; what else did he say?"

"There were two other doctors in the room when he died but they didn't give him anything. It looks like Bernard finally gave out but…."

"But what?" asked Pete getting curious

"Riley hinted that one of the doctors, a doctor Bell, might be inept."

"So you're thinking that it's not an artifact but just a bad doctor? But Artie-"

"Well Artie can be wrong." Shrugged Myka, "Nobody saw anything; Riley was depressed from his wife dying. I just can't find a single thing that even suggests that there's anything but a negligent doctor about."

Pete rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly. He trusted Artie's intuition for finding artifacts but it difficult to see what artifact could possibly be at large here.

"Okay tell you what; how about we call Artie and ask him to do background checks on Bell? If he has a record of being reckless we'll tell Artie that we've hit a dead end, if he doesn't then we ask Artie to check for any artifacts that might cause, I dunno brain rot or something."

He extended his hand to his stressed out partner and she gladly took it. Myka fished out the ancient device from her jacket and soon the familiar buzzing of the Farnsworth filled the room. But there was no answer from their grizzled supervisor.

"That's not good." Commented Pete

"How come he isn't answering?"

Myka handed the Farnsworth to Pete as she look out the window. Thunder roared as the rain continued; it didn't show signs of stopping anytime soon.

"You think that this storm could be causing the Farnsworth to not work out?" asked Pete as he joined her at the window.

"Definitely a possibility" she sighed, "Now what do we do?"

He glanced at the clock and replied to his weary partner "Get some sleep, try again in the morning, and figure out what ever is causing all these deaths."

It had been well over twenty-four hours since Artie had last talked to Pete and Myka and he was starting to get concerned. He tried using his Farnsworth to call them but there was no answer. He checked the weather; there were heavy rain and thunder storms where they were located. That, he had guessed, was the reason why Pete and Myka had failed to call him but he was still on edge. People were dying where they were; they had no idea what they were dealing with. It could literally be anything and his agents were flying blind. So he made a resolve. If he didn't receive any word from them then he would take action; he was more than sure that Claudia and Leena could hold the fort down while he was away.

All was quiet in at Golden Years retirement home. The last of the day workers had left long ago and the one bored night worker was on call. He was busy sleeping on the job at the reception desk and didn't notice that a lone figure slipping in from the front door.

Like a ghost the figure moved silently and quickly through the blackened hallways. It didn't take long for the figure to get a proper hold of the artifact which during the course woke up Riley.

"Who's there?" he growled

The person allowed Riley to see who it was.

"What on Earth are you doing here; don't you know it's almost midnight? I thought your shift ended hours ago. I-"

Riley would never have his questions answered. The figure held up the artifact and Riley found it hard to look away. The artifact emitted a purple glow that captured Riley's attention. He couldn't look away. His mouth hung opened as he felt the oddest sensation of his life; the sensation of dying. Riley's breathing became shallow and his heart came to a complete stop. His vital signs were gone and Riley was dead without a single mark on him.

Sinclair's Note: A short chapter but oh dear, it seems Riley has passed away. The latest victim in a long line of murderous spree.


	5. Chapter 5

Sinclair's Note: Time for some action! And Dear old Arthur makes the scene, oh how close he comes to being the next victim!

"Got anything?"

Pete looked over his shoulder and saw a still tired looking Myka standing behind him.

"Nope." He replied

The storm was still going strong and they had yet to contact Artie or anybody else at the Warehouse. Land lines were out of the question due to a couple of the power lines being brought down by the powerful winds and falling branches. They were completely isolated.

"It would be nice to know Bell's medical career." She sighed

"It would be nice to know if Steve's beaten my high score on vintage Pac-Man."

Myka shot him a glare to which he said "Just joking Myks."

"I can't. Somebody is out there with an artifact that kills but what it is we don't know, why we still don't know, and who the person is, again we don't know!"

Pete got up from his seat and put a hand on her shoulder. He gave her a warm smile and said in a soft tone

"Don't worry; we'll catch the bad guy and snag, bag, and tag the artifact before you know it."

Myka sighed again "Thanks Pete."

"No problem and Myka?"

"Yeah?"

"It would be nice to have a plate of snicker doodles right about now."

When Pete and Myka arrived at Golden Years they knew something was wrong. There was a certain gloom over the residence; Pete simply glanced over to her. Months working with Pete had trained Myka to notice just when he got vibes and she was starting to get to the point where she could predict where the vibe was taking place.

"Vibe?" she asked

"Vibe; something bad happened."

Pete and Myka stormed their way through the retirement home, passing a handful of senior citizens who had their heads bowed in mourning over another lost resident to the cold hands of death. The duo quickly made their way to Riley's room where they already found another elderly patient sitting in Riley's bed. It was an old woman reading a magazine looking quite uncomfortable.

"Who are you?" asked Pete

The old woman placed down her magazine and looked over the two young people standing before her unimpressed.

"I'm Eudora Miller, young man; are you staff?"

"No mam, we're the I.R.S. and we're looking for Mr. Riley."

"He died last night not surprising if you ask me."

"Why?" asked Myka

"If I tell you will you get me into another room?"

"Sure!" Lied Pete

"Alright then, it's not surprising Riley died last night because this is the Death Room."

"The Death Room?"

"Yes the Death Room; it never fails, someone is put in here for the night and the next morning the wind up dead from a heart attack whether they had a heart problem or not."

"How long have you been here?" asked Pete

"Five years ever since my legs gave out on me. I can't move without help."

"And when did this room get its nickname?"

"I'm not too sure maybe but a friend told me it was called the Death Room even since six, seven years ago… my memory is a little hazy these days."

"Could've it been when Mary-Anne came here to Golden Years?"

"Why yes I suppose so…"

They thanked her and quickly left the room. By the time they were down the stairs, Pete had the Farnsworth out and was already calling Artie.

"Oh please work, please work, please work."

The ancient device amazingly worked despite the storm though instead of their lovable but grizzled supervisor they were met with the Warehouse's next generation.

"Sup' dudes?" Claudia greeted them with the Vulcan sign.

"Claudia, hey! We need some information."

"Not so fast guys, you left me stuck in the Warehouse with a cranky Artie. I had to dust the Records room; why the hell didn't you check in on the Farnsworth?"

"There's a massive thunderstorm over us; all we've been getting is static."

"You see this is why I wanted to upgrade the Farnsworth but Grumpy won't let me and really-"

"Claudia," interrupted Pete "We need to know Mary-Anne Gunness's financials-"

"And Doctors George Swango and Leopold Bell's medical career, can you do it?" added in Myka

"Can I do it? Did Jinksy beat Pete's high score on Pac-Man?"

There was a beat of silence for which Jinks called out from behind Claudia "That I did."

"Darn you Jinks! Darn you to heck."

Myka stared at Pete with a confused look.

"Oh come on, Simpsons? Planet of the Apes parody? Am I the only one who watches TV?"

Claudia sighed and said "Ok any who~ whoa…"

"Whoa what?"

"Alright so get this Dr. Swango had some serious student debts to pay."

"How much?" asked Pete over Myka's shoulder

"Little over one hundred thousand and as of three months ago he paid it off, not to mention he bought himself a sports car, a nice vacation home in the Hamptons, and he got himself the wonderful present of an off shore bank account."

"Whoa is right." Nodded Pete

"What do you have on Bell?"

"Not a lot; this dude's mostly off the radar but he's moved around a lot. Like every five years since nineteen sixty five he's moved to a different hospital or rest home or whatever."

"Why?"

Claudia shrugged "Dunno but there's always been something strange going on whenever this guy had been on call."

"Define strange; like Warehouse strange or normal strange?"

"Like a couple of people dead for no reason what so ever strange. He's signed a lot of death certificates too since he joined Golden Years; all of them read cardiac arrest or some sort of fatal heart disorder and he's done all of the autopsies."

"Oh, Warehouse strange." Sighed Pete

"What about Mary-Anne?" asked Myka pushing Pete out of the screen

"She's better off than Swango; the lady has got almost fifty thousand in her bank account and about a hundred more in another."

"Let me guess she started to get the big bank account around four, five months ago."

"Excellent guess; also I should mention that for a retirement home that has mostly patients who have "heart problems" it's a little strange that there's no record at all of the home billing any health insurance agency for medicine."

"That makes sense." Commented Pete

"It does?"

"Yeah, when I was with Cora she showed me that they stored their drugs in the basement without any protection at all."

"Why would they do that?" asked Claudia "It doesn't seem sane that they open themselves to a law suit."

Myka gasped "The drugs are fake or diluted and Mary-Anne's been having Bell sign off on the deaths as cardiac arrest."

"What about Swango?"

"Maybe she's paying him off? Or bringing him on when Bell's not around?"

"Claudia can you look up the patients who died and see if they left any life insurance to anyone?"

"They did. Most of it goes to their families but there's always some part of the money that goes to Golden Years."

"Which goes into Mary-Anne's pocket." Replied Myka

"Great instead of trying to snag an artifact we stumbled upon a scheme to kill and defraud old people. Claud can you get Artie? I want to tell him that we're leaving."

"I thought Artie was with you."

"No, no Artie's at the Warehouse. Isn't he?"

Claudia shook her head. "Sorry Myks but since you guys weren't checking in Artie left to go see what was going on with you guys. It's weird he should have made it by now."

Her voice was thinly veiled by worry. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she was concerned for Artie, especially now that they knew what was really going on at Golden Years.

"Don't worry Claudia we'll find him."

Mary-Anne was manning the reception desk when she heard the door open. When she looked up she saw a not quite old but aged man standing just a few feet from the door drying himself off from the heavy rain. He was a short stocky man with a noticeable stomach. He was wearing a clean white shirt underneath a black suit with a red tie. The man's clothing was respectable and his shoes were sensible; Mary-Anne guessed that he must have a sizeable bank account which made him an excellent candidate for 'Golden Years'. She would have a room cleared out for him immediately. To her absolute delight she saw that in his hand was a beaten up briefcase. He had brought the proper paperwork to be placed here; simply wonderful! Victims like him didn't come any easier like this! She was eyeing him like a hungry predator and she quickly made her move.

"Hello sir! May I be the first to welcome you to Golden Years!

The man seemed suspicious of her but reluctantly took her extended hand.

"My name is Mary-Anne, owner and manager. Oh! I see you brought your briefcase filled with all the necessary paperwork! Smart man, just head into my office with me and we'll get you squared right away!"

Mary-Anne tried to grab at his briefcase but the man pulled it away from her and gave her a wide berth.

"I'm with the I.R.S. I sent two agents of mine down here, have you seen them?"

"Yes, yes of course I have but back to business. You're what; sixty-nine, seventy years old?"

"I'm sixty-five." He growled

She smiled to herself; she had hit a nerve.

"Well may I say that you are at the perfect age to retire with us; now for medical purposes we will need to know if you have any disabilities, serious medical conditions, or anything that might impair your judgment we'll need to know right away."

"Why don't you just tell me where my agents are right now and I won't-"

"Sir please you shouldn't get to hyper; can't be too good for your high cholesterol."

"My triglycerides are none of your business."

"They are once you start living with us. Did you know the average male life expectancy rate is only seventy-five, if that? You only have ten more years on this wonderful planet so why don't you come with me-"

She hooked her arm around his tightly and he couldn't get away.

"It's alright sir just come with me."

"HEY ARTIE!"

Mary-Anne nearly jumped out of her skin. She saw agents Lattimer and Bering walking towards her and her new resident. Great it would take forever to get them to leave….

"Pete, Myka! Good to see you. Excuse me Mary-Anne but I need to go."

The man now named Artie quickly pulled himself away from her vice-grip and hid behind Pete and Myka.

It was around one p.m. when Pete, Myka, and Artie were back in the Plainfield Hotel. Two younger agents had decided that it would be better for them if they had a chance to talk properly without Mary-Anne trying to get Artie away from them. Myka was at the desk, Pete was lying on his bed and Artie was sitting on one of the armchairs.

"What did Mary-Anne want with you?" asked Myka

"She was trying to sign me in for a stay." He sighed. Artie noticed that Pete and Myka automatically looked alarmed.

That wasn't a good sign. Pete and Myka only looked alarmed when something potentially bad could happen and when something potentially bad was mixed with an artifact….well things just went from bad to worse.

"That's odd;" he commented "Usually by now one of you two would make a crack about my age, weight, or eyebrows. What's going on?"

"Artie, Mary-Anne and two other doctors have been killing off residents." Replied Pete

"Oh….well glad you two came when you did." Said Artie with a smile

"Artie this is too dangerous, maybe you should go back to the Warehouse."

"Myka's right what if whatever artifact is out there gets you next?"

"Pete, Myka your concern is touching but I'll be fine."

"But Artie-"

"No buts, if the Farnsworth shuts off again due to the storm you two will be flying blind. It's better that I stay here, at least you'll have a better idea of what you're looking for."

"Hate you tell you this but we have no idea what we're looking for." Commented Pete

"He's right, it just looks like Mary-Anne is just killing off old people with bad drugs and hiding the murders with her own doctors doing the autopsies and writing it off as a heart defect."

"I know it looks like there's no artifact at work here but trust me something in the building is whispering "Warehouse". I'd stake my life on it."

To no one's surprise Pete and Myka looked uncomfortable.

"Alright poor choice of words."

"No kidding," muttered Pete

"All kidding aside there must be something that you have seen or heard; think!"

Myka sighed "Artie we asked the normal questions; have you seen them have anything new or old like an antique? But we keep coming up empty. I haven't even seen anything that looks like it would belong in the Warehouse."

Artie turned to Pete "What about you? Getting any vibes?"

"The only vibes Pete's been getting is from his girlfriend." She smirked

Pete remained silent.

"Pete? Have you been getting vibes from her?" asked Myka

"Sorta. I mean- it's not a bad vibe it's just she seems guilty."

"Maybe she's involved?" offered Artie

"No see, she's not like that. I think that she's more guilty over not being able to help anyone."

"Is that you talking or your…" Myka motioned downstairs

"HA-HA very funny."

"Keep going Pete," commanded Artie "What else did you and this…what's her name?"

"Cora."

"What else did you and this Cora talk about?"

"Nothing I hit on her, accidently knocked over this painting, helped her-"

"Painting?" asked Myka "I saw an outline right above Bernard's bed; how big was it?"

Pete motioned the painting's size to which Artie questioned "What exactly did this painting look like?"

"It was really ugly. It had a severed man's head on a plate and-"

"Oh god it's Kevorkian." Whispered Artie

"A what?" inquired Pete

Artie rushed through his files flinging paper everywhere until he found the exact paper he was looking for.

"This, this is a Kevorkian painting. It was painted by, you guessed it, Jack Kevorkian. He was this fanatical supporter of the right of people to choose when to die. Near the end of his life he began to dabble in the arts and this was created."

Artie showed Pete and Myka the blurry picture of the Kevorkian that Pete had seen in the basement.

"Yuck, what's it called?"

"The Gourmet of War; it popped up back in 2000. I was close to getting it but on the way there the museum that had it was robbed and we couldn't find it."

"Until Mary-Anne bought it." Growled Pete

"We need to get back to Golden Years before Mary-Anne uses it again."

The doors were locked and no light could be seen from inside. On the front door there was a little sign that read "_Sorry we're closed." _

"This isn't good, we've got to stop her before she kills again."

"It's okay," Grinned Pete "I've got a key."

He busted down the front door with his leg.

"You know we could have picked the lock." Muttered Myka

"Yeah but this way is more fun."

"Enough chit-chat! Pete where's the basement?"

"It's to the right of the desk over there."

"Pete you snag the artifact, Myka come with me we're going to look for Mary-Anne."

Pete felt his way down the basement steps. It was pitch black and he couldn't find the light switch at the top of the stairs. He stepped down as fast as he could without tripping which was no easy feat. On his way down he missed the trick step and fell. Pete braced himself for his fall with his right shoulder which throbbed with pain.

"Ah, damn it." He muttered as he picked himself up from the dust covered floor.

He squinted his eyes for the pile of tarp-covered paintings. He saw the couch, the exercise equipment, and the mountain of worthless heart medication but no paintings at all. Fumbling with his left arm he picked out the Farnsworth from his coat pocket. It took a minute but Myka's black and white face showed up on the screen.

"Myks, the painting isn't here. I can't find it."

"Pete I-"

A scream echoed rang through both Farnsworthes.

"Pete, Artie and I are on the second floor. Get here now!"

Pete scrambled back up the stairs. He pulled out his Tesla as he quickly climbed up the first flight of stairs.

"Myka!" he shouted

A purple glow was emitted from Riley's old room. Breaking into a run, Pete ran to the end of the hallway and broke down the door. Inside the small room there was madness. Eudora Miller, the older woman from before was tied down to her bed. Her screams were still loud despite the gag in her mouth. Standing and fighting to her right was Artie. His glasses were gone and he was sporting an already swelling black left eye but was holding his own against a much younger man wearing a lab coat. The younger man looked like an over inflated Superman model; he was swaying quite a bit as Artie punched him square in the jaw.

The broken down Superman standee went down not a second after Artie punched him. Myka was fighting against Mary-Anne who looked like hell. Her makeup was running and though Mary-Anne looked forty she now appeared seventy and looked every minute of it. Pete tucked the Tesla away before jumping into the fray. The room was too small and the odds of hitting either Myka or Artie were just too great. Pete threw a punch and hit Mary-Anne on the nose. She stumbled back and fell onto some medical equipment. Myka saw the artifact lying on the floor and picked it up before anything else could happen.

"We got it!" laughed Pete as he high fived Myka

Artie was untying a crying and hysterical Eudora. The minute he got her bonds off she brought him into a hug.

"They were go-going to k-k-kill me!" she sobbed

Artie, rigid from her hug, patted her sympathetically on the back.

"There, there; they can't and won't be able to harm you."

Her grasp didn't relent. She held onto him as if her life depended on it. Artie was starting to feel uncomfortable. He was fairly sure that she was fine but it probably couldn't hurt to have her examined just in case. Speaking of being examined, his left eye ached and had swelled shut.

"You won't have to worry about Mary-Anne or her accomplice."

He cast a small glare to the unconscious woman and man lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"We'll call the police and all of this will get sorted out." He mumbled in hopes that the distressed woman would relinquish her grasp.

"P-Pl-Please don't leave me al-alo-alone!" she whimpered, "I-I-I can-can't be al-alone!"

Her cries only grew and Artie in desperate bid for help turned to Pete and Myka.

"Help." He mouthed

Myka stepped in and removed Eudora from Artie's neck. "Mrs. Miller-"

"Ms., I've been a widow for nearly twenty years."

Pete leaned in to Artie and laughed "Hey play your cards right and you could leave here with a date."

Artie hit Pete on his chest when he turned his attention back to Myka had calmed the crying woman down.

"She says that she wants us to take her with us otherwise she'll call the police."

"Look Ms. Miller-"began Pete

"No you look! I've almost been killed tonight and I will be damned if I'm staying in this hellhole one more minute."

She had raised a good point. Who would want to stay in this place after nearly being killed via artifact?

Artie knew that tonight was going to be one of "those nights". The kind where nothing ever seems to go your way and every and anything is going to go wrong. He was now carrying the slightly less ornery Ms. Miller instead of Pete. Pete's excuse had been that while exploring the basement he had hurt his shoulder that meant that he couldn't carry anything, even the painting was too heavy for him. Therefore, now here they all were going down the stairs, Artie was leading the group carrying Ms. Miller on his back, Myka to his right carrying the artifact while Pete on his left trailed behind them nursing his wounded shoulder.

No one noticed the haggard looking Mary-Anne sneaking behind them on the stairs. She was beyond enraged. All of her plans ruined, her latest victim getting away, and those pesky agents stealing her painting. She wouldn't have it, none of it. Mary-Anne charged at the fat one who was carrying that W.O.W (Whining Old Woman) with all of the grace of an ox.

He fell down the stairs and wit Eudora on his back; he was helpless to stop himself from falling. They both took very nasty spills. Artie was the luckier one, he just fell on his side and hit his head as he made contact with the ground. He was hurt and in terrible pain but Eudora on the other hand was far less lucky. She went flying after being pushed off, and she head did not simply just hit the ground; her head bounced as her skull was cracked open. She was dead the moment she hit the ground.

However, Mary-Anne's little reign of death wasn't over not by a long shot. Pete and Myka were shocked and in the short time their guard was down, she struck again. She grabbed the artifact from Myka and ran down the stairs.

Pete and Myka pulled their teslas out ready to kill if needed.

"Come anywhere near me and I'll use this on him."

She motioned to Artie still dizzy and trying to get off the floor.

They still kept a bead on her just in case.

"Put your toys down or I swear I'll use it on him."

Mary-Anne inched closer to Artie. The artifact began to glow a purplish hue. They stuck their Farnsworthes back in their coat packets.

"That's good." Nodded Mary-Anne "Now move slowly towards the door and keep your hands where I can see them. Same goes for you old man."

Pete and Myka move inch by inch towards the door.

"Now what?" Myka asked

"You're going to leave." Stated Mary-Anne

"What about Artie?" questioned Pete

"I'm going to keep him here as a permanent guest, for insurance purposes. When you two leave here, I want you to come back with one million dollars otherwise I'm afraid your friend's heart might not be strong enough to handle all this stress."

Both agents wanted to pull out their teslas and fire at will. While they couldn't fight back a certain someone could; Cora. She had snuck into the building when one of the seniors called her, worried that someone had fallen down the stairs. Cora was hidden among the shadows watching silently the scene unfolding before her. Pete and Myka left the retirement home and once Mary-Anne was sure that they were gone, she triumphantly went over to Artie still on the floor.

Mary-Anne gave Artie a good kick in the ribs. He gasped in pain and grasped what was now had to be a broken rib if he didn't have it now.

"You are going to earn me quite the fortune."

"Last time I checked Texas has the death penalty. You'll be sentenced for the deaths you've caused." He replied calmly through the pain

Mary-Anne kicked him again in the ribs and whispered "Including yours."

Cora always knew Mary-Anne was a psychopath but she didn't know that she qualified for "murderer". Cora slipped through the darkness getting as close to Mary-Anne as possible. She pulled out a pocketknife from her pocket and waited for the perfect moment to strike.

Cora came up behind Mary-Anne's massive form and put her knife to her throat.

"I can't let you have this." Muttered Cora "Now put the painting down before I get really tempted to use this."

"I don't think so."

She knocked Cora's knife away from her throat. Mary-Anne and Cora began to fight instantly. Cora being younger and swifter had the upper hand. She threw Mary-Anne over her and had her land hard on her back. Mary-Anne recoiled in pain as she was flipped over and the deadly painting was taken away from her. She couldn't get up, she was like a turtle stuck on its back.

"I'll kill you!" She screamed "I swear to God I'll kill you!"

"And yet I don't care. Are you alright sir?"

Cora's victory was short lived. A bullet, coming out of nowhere, pierced her in her right shoulder. Cora stumbled onto the wall and slid down as she tried to steady herself. She scanned the dark room for the shooter but she couldn't see. Her mind was swirling with agony as she gripped her shoulder trying to stop the bleeding.

"Not so high and mighty now, are you?" spat Mary-Anne still waddling on the floor, trying to get up from the floor

"Now, now Mary-Anne" spoke a voice "You shouldn't be too hard on her."

It was Dr. Swango stepping walking down the stairs holding a pistol. Apparently, he had woken up from his little smack down earlier.

"Don't tell me to go easier on her and help me up dammit."

Swango helped his accomplice up from the floor. When she was up, he handed her another pistol he had behind his back. This was not good for Cora or for the man Mary-Anne was holding hostage. Speaking of which she glanced over to the old man still lying on the floor, he was lying on his right side and though he seemed to be all there, it looked like his left leg might have been dealt some serious damage.

"What's happened?" asked Swango

"I've managed to get our fat friend here primed for a million dollars."

"Impressive, how did you do that?"

"I pushed him down those stairs and killed that dead broad-"she used her gun to point over to the still warm corpse of the late Eudora Miller "I scared those nasty agents sniffing away by threatening to kill him."

"Excellent work Mary as always."

Mary-Anne beamed at his compliment "Just think of it George, an extra million dollars and you and I can be on the fastest flight to Cape Verde."

She snuggled right up next to the over inflated Superman model. Happy thoughts of going to a non-U.S. extradited island with her beau filled her head.

"Yes, speaking of our little trip. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel." He replied to his murderous cohort

"What? Why? We have plenty of money. We can live like royalty for the rest of our lives."

"Hm yes but I'm afraid it's not so much the money as it is you."

"What are you talking about?"

"The idea of spending the rest of my life with you on some obscure island besides I had someone else in mind…"

"WHO?" she bellowed

Swango smiled at Mary-Anne as he simply said "Cora." Then he shot her.

Mary-Anne merely gasped as the bullet penetrated her chest. She staggered backwards, her own gun still in her right hand, the painting in the left, as she finally fell close to where Artie was.

"W-W-Wh-Why? We were going to kill just a-a-a few more and es-escape with the-the money, and p-pin it all on Bel-Bell" she gasped

"I was just playing you. I never had any interest in you."

"Tha-that's a rotten lie."

"Or the cold hard truth, whichever you prefer. I was fine working alongside you, helping you dispose of these horrid creatures when Cora popped into my life. I wanted enough money to start a new life somewhere with her and with the money you've been able to boost from this elderly bastard, I'll have enough to live like royalty with Cora."

"You don't think you're honestly going to get away with this, do you?" grunted Artie

"Oh I don't think, I know. See I've got it all worked out old man. I've just got to kill you and let Mary-Anne bleed out to death then all I have to do is tell the police that Mary had a psychotic break, killed Eudora and you as well as every other patient to ever die underneath mysterious circumstances. After that I can fly away to Cape Verde with my new lovely bride, Cora."

"And if I refuse to go?" hissed Cora

"You've been shot, I don't think you can fight back against someone like me. Besides my dear I've got very big plans for the both of us, each involving having kids."

"You're a monster." She jeered

"No, I just know what I want."

He began to lumber towards her, picked her up by her good arm, and pushed her up against the wall pinning her. Swango lifted up her blouse revealing her bra and said

"Now give me a kiss."

"Go to hell." She growled

Then for the third time that night, another shot was fired.

Bell was done for; the third fatal bullet got him right in neck. If he wasn't dead then he was sure as hell close to it.

"Didn't anyone teach you that "no" means "no"?"

Artie was up on both feet, or at least his one good leg and one limping, using his arm that hadn't been injured to help him aim. The gun's was Mary-Anne's, he had stolen it from her while Swango was busy trying to rape Cora. Mary-Anne was now screaming bloody murder at Artie.

"HOW COULD YOU?! HE WAS MY LOVER!"

"Shut up! He was going to kill you!"

Mary-Anne was sobbing hysterically. She was desperately trying to get to Swango before he passed on to the next life. Artie limped over to Cora who pushing down her blouse asked "Are you alright?"

"I am, a little shaken but fine. You really shouldn't be standing."

"Says the person with the bullet wound." Retorted Artie

She smirked and had something equally snarky to reply when Mary-Anne shouted "YOU BASTARDS WILL ALL PAY!"

She had gotten to Swango's gun and was pointing it at Artie and Cora. There was nowhere for them to take cover and Artie highly doubted he could escape five deadly bullets being shot at him. It seemed that this artifact retrieval would end in his, Cora's, and Swango's deaths. In fear, Cora grasped his hand, not wanting to face death alone. He squeezed her hand in return assuring her that she would not die like this by herself.

They expected to feel the hot searing pain of gunfire to ridden their bodies but instead of death they were greeted by a very familiar tesla beams. The twin beams went right between them and struck Mary-Anne who finally collapsed to the floor and moved no more. Artie turned around and saw standing a few feet away from him Pete and Myka both holding their teslas in their hands.

"Artie!"

They ran to their grizzled Warehouse supervisor who still had Cora's hand tightly in his.

"Artie! Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, what-"

"He's not okay," interrupted Cora "I think he's got a few broken ribs and his leg is in very bad shape."

"You've been shot. I think we should worry more about you."

Cora scoffed "I'll be better the sooner I'm out of this hellhole."

"I have to agree with Cora. We shouldn't stay here any longer." Said Myka "Somebody upstairs probably heard all the gunfire down here."

"I wouldn't be surprise if the police showed up soon." Commented Pete

"You're right we'll head back to the hotel and-"

"No you're not. My house is closer to here than whatever hotel you're staying at, I have a medical kit at home and I need get a look at you."

"We don't have any time for-"

The faint sound of police sirens could be heard forcing Artie to say

"Fine! We'll go to your house!"

They had escaped the police's attention and in only a few minutes were they at Cora's home. It was a lovely dark purple Victorian house and the inside looked as if it never left the nineteenth century. Cora led them to the living room; it was lavishly decorated with the finest things that suited a woman like Cora. The living room had a large coffee table with a bouquet of blood red roses that faced a three seating loveseat with red covering while two armchairs sat across from them. She told them to make themselves at home while she went and got her first aid kit. Artie doubted that an ordinary first aid kit would do them any good but Cora was incessant upon it. She returned from the kitchen with not only the kit but with a rather large butcher knife prompting Pete to ask

"What's that for?"

"For me of course, I do still have a bullet in my shoulder. Would any of you mind if I took care of my shoulder first?"

"No, no gone on."

Cora smiled, stuck the blade carefully inside her shoulder, and with the precise of surgeon popped the bullet right out. She rotated her shoulder, checking for any extra damage and said happily

"That feels so much better."

"Is that safe?" asked Myka

"Well it beats walking around with an open wound, wouldn't you say?"

Pete shrugged his shoulder in agreement.

"Now why don't you two go wash up while I take a look at your friend?"

Pete and Myka were understandably apprehensive about leaving Artie alone again.

"Um Pete, Myka? Why don't you two go "freshen up"?" asked Artie

"Freshen up?" parroted Myka

She noticed that he was looking at the still active artifact and caught his drift.

"Oh freshen up! Come on, Pete let's go to the bathroom."

"I already used the bathroom before we left."

"Pete." She growled

"It'll be on your left once you're on the second floor." Called out Cora

They disappeared up the stairs and now Cora and Artie were alone.

"They seem like quite the pair." She said

"Yeah they're great but I'm surprised how well you handled yourself back there. Not many people would jump into a fight with just a pocket knife."

Cora laughed "Thanks you know I don't think that we've been properly introduced yet."

She stuck out her hand and said "I'm Cora Sinclair; it's a pleasure to meet you."

He grabbed her hand and shook it "Arthur Nielson and the pleasure is all mine."

Her silvery laugh was music to his ears and then she said "Could you please take off your shirt?"

"What?" he asked in a panicked tone

"You were kicked twice in the stomach; I think you might have fractured a rib or two. To see if I'm right I got to examine you and it'll be easier if you don't have a shirt on."

Artie grumbled but complied. He fumbled with the buttons of his white button shirt. He sat uneasily on the couch as Cora made a clicking sound and shook her head. Cora bent down to his level and gently pressed down on his side. Artie whimpered in pain, it was worse than Mary-Anne's kick.

"Can you take any deep breaths?"

He tried and felt a sharp pain go through his chest. It was better for him if he did not do that again.

"How do you feel when you breathe?"

Artie slowed his breathing down "It hurts."

"What kind of pain is it? Sharp? Dull?"

She prodded his side.

"Sharp, very sharp; how bad is it?" he gasped breathlessly

"Not good." She replied "Bruising's already starting to form, your skin quite tender, and I'm afraid that you fractured your two lower ribs. I am going to advise that you refrain from any activities for the next six weeks."

"Six weeks?"

"Yes that means no firing guns or saving damsels in distress."

A faint smile graced her lips causing his heart to flutter.

"Now let's get a good look at your leg; where does it hurt most?"

"The knee mostly." He rolled up his pants' leg and showed off his knee which now had a pretty purple and blue bruise forming

"So how on earth did you end up on the floor?"

"Ah Mary-Anne pushed me down."

"What a bitch." She muttered under her breath "Well it doesn't look like you've done any serious damage to it but to be on the safe side I don't want you to go out running or doing anyting strenuous. Also I'm very concerned about your eye, tell me, can you see anything out of it?"

"No, only really bright lights."

"Okay well I'm going to go get an ice pack to see if we can bring down that swelling. I assume that your friends will want something to eat after all the action tonight. I'm going to busy myself in the kitchen."

"Don't you want to rest or something? Your shoulder after all?"

She cast a small glance down to the still open wound and replied "I patch it up later; I rather do something to get my mind of off things, you rest. I'll be back in a while."

She gave him a small wave and went to the kitchen. He waved back to her and then suddenly he missed her. She was only a room away and he missed her. Odd, he didn't usually form such a quick emotional bond with someone he just met. Then again, he did save her from being raped and she did save him from being murdered. Maybe it was just a mutual "thanks for saving me" sorta thing? Lost in his thoughts he didn't see Pete and Myka come back downstairs from "freshening up".

"Hey Artie, you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah…"

"What did Cora say?" asked Myka

"I've got a few rib fractures, nothing serious. I won't be going on missions for a while." He laughed weakly

"Where's Cora?"

"She in the kitchen making snacks for you."

"Awesome! I hope it's cookies." Said Pete happily

Myka rolled her eyes at her partner's enthusiasm for cookies; everyone knew that twizzlers were a better treat.

"Arthur? Are Pete and Myka back?" she called out from the kitchen

"Arthur?" whispered Myka with a curious look

Artie brushed her off and replied "Yes Cora, they're back."

She came back from the kitchen with a silver tea set and a platter full of goodies ranging from cookies and twizzlers to apple slice and chocolate éclairs. Cora brushed back a curl that hung in her face and giggled

"I didn't know what you all would like so I just grabbed a little bit of everything."

"How did you…?"

"Oh I have the neighborhood kids over here all the time and hey, you know kids they have big appetites."

Artie looked at Pete and saw him swallowing ten cookies at once.

"Yeah I know what you mean."

Sinclair's Note: Isn't it romantic how Arthur came to my aid? I love men in shining armor. They're always so easy to manipulate.


	6. Chapter 6

Sinclair's Note: I've got Arthur, Pete, and Myka all nice and cozy in my house. It won't take much to convince them to stay the night….

* * *

Through careful and shrewd eyes did he watch them all as they ate. He was always careful of those who got too close to Warehouse business and every now and then, there was a civilian who just got caught up in it all. The civilian this time was a young lovely woman by the name of Cora Sinclair who had allowed them to grace her beautiful home and gave them food and drink. She was enchanting that was for certain, even when she pulled out a bullet from her own shoulder did she still keep her charm.

He found himself captivated by her and he couldn't quite place his finger on it but he was more than certain that he had seen her somewhere before; possibly from an article or a book, perhaps? He glanced up from his inner thoughts and made brief eye contact with Cora. Color rose to her face as she smiled and laughed softly then looked away. Artie couldn't help himself but smile too, she just had that bewitching ability.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked suddenly feeling piggish

Pete and Myka stopped eating as their manners caught up to them.

She shook her lovely locks "No, I ate before I came for the fight."

"If you say so."

They resumed feasting but stopped once more when she asked

"I have to ask," said Cora "if it's not too much trouble, what exactly is that painting?"

He munched down on an apple slice and sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. This conversation was bound to happen sooner or later, he couldn't just expect her to forget everything that happened tonight without question.

"It's complicated." He answered

She chuckled "I have no doubt about that but I need to know how they were being killed."

They, were those poor unfortunate ailing residents who Mary-Anne and Swango had purposely denied medicine to, pumped them up for a large life insurance policy, and then used the artifact, a Kevorkian painting, to make it looked like they had died of a heart attack. It was brilliant, devious, and left the two murders on the floor, one shot, and one tesla'ed.

"Look Cora, it's not really easy to explain." Said Myka as she yawned

"Please, please can't you tell me?"

"Trust me we would but it's a secret, national security that sorta thing." Shrugged Pete as his eyes began to droop

She hung her head in disappointment. This killed them, it wasn't fair sometimes but they couldn't go telling about the existence of the Warehouse to every pretty face they saw.

"We're sorry Cora but we just can't." stated Artie

Cora sighed and answered "its okay I understand." Then she yawned and looked over at an old grandfather clock that stood proudly in the corner.

"Oh my it's late."

Artie got a glimpse of his watch; it was almost twelve.

"We should get going." He groaned as he got up. His entire body throbbed and ached, his brain was practically shouting at him to just sit back down and not move again. Cora seeing his discomfort went to his aid.

"Are you okay Arthur?" she had both of her hands on his shoulders to help him regain his balance

He nodded quickly and replied "Yeah I'm fine."

"Why don't you and your friends stay here tonight?"

He shook his head "No, no I don't want to burden you anymore."

"Arthur it wouldn't be a burden besides you can barely walk and I think Pete and Myka might have some resistance to leaving." She pointed to the duo on the couch

Artie turned around and saw both Pete and Myka, propping each other up, fast asleep.

"Oh come on." He muttered

Cora giggled "I think I can say that I've won this battle."

"I think you have." He sat back down on the couch when he too felt drowsy.

Cora was right. Why bother fighting it? It was late, they were all tired, and she was offering them to stay the night. Moreover, driving would be a pain and odds are they could get lost along the way….yes they would stay with Cora it would be best if they stayed with Cora.

"Excellent!" she chirped "I'll get the beds ready, can you wake Pete and Myka up?"

He nodded, almost falling asleep himself.

"Pete wake up, Myka come on."

Pete groaned and buried himself deeper into Cora's couch.

"Nnnooo….sleepy, let me sleep."

Artie prodded him once more getting this as a response

"I will pay you twenty cookies to let me sleep." His eyes still shut

"Cookies aren't currency."

"Says you." Yawned Pete

Artie rubbed his eyes in annoyance; it was like dealing with a five year old. Maybe Myka could wake him up after she was out of dreamland.

"Myka Bering, wake up."

Myka's eyes fluttered open briefly "Artie?"

"Yes Artie, come on time to get to bed."

"I don't want to go back to the hotel." She moaned. The mere thought of having to stay another night there made her skin crawl

"We're not going back to the hotel."

Pete's conscious level rose as he asked "We're not?"

"Correct, Cora has been kind enough to let us sleep here for the night."

Pete threw his fists in the air and exclaimed "Yes!" He paused and then looked around "Where is Cora?"

"She's getting our rooms ready, but in the morning I want us out of here as soon as possible."

Both agents looked crestfallen "Why?"

"Might I remind you we're carrying an artifact with us? That there is a dead woman one on the floor of a retirement home and if by some chance the police do their jobs that the first people that they're going to look for is the three non-existent I.R.S. agents?"

"Oh…"

Artie raised a good point but it was going to be hard to leave Cora; she was just so enthralling. As if on cue, Cora came down the stairs.

"Oh good you're all awake. Pete, Myka I assume that Artie has told you about tonight's sleeping arrangement?"

"Yes," nodded Myka "And thank you so much."

"Think nothing of it besides it's nice having people over."

"Where are we sleeping?" asked Pete

"Your two rooms are on the second floor, your nightclothes have been laid out, and feel free to come to me with any questions or requests you may have."

"Nightclothes?"

"Pajamas, I do a little bit of sewing to help stipulate my income and had some left clothes from my last order. I guessed on your sizes but again just come to me with any requests you may have."

"Wow thanks." Replied Myka "This is very nice."

"I believe in being hospitable to all guests especially those who save my life. Arthur, you will be staying in my room on the ground floor. I think it would be better for you if you didn't move around too much."

Pete and Myka said goodnight to Cora and Artie and went upstairs to finally rest properly while Cora led Artie into her room. Cora's room looked more like a study than an actual bedroom. Wall to wall was covered with bookshelves as books covering a range of topics laid stack on the floor.

"Sorry it's such a mess, I haven't had much time to clean up. Mary-Anne had me working double shifts before...you know."

"It's okay, my room looks like this."

Artie took a peek at what she had on her shelves. It was mostly history, with the usual run of the mill classics, Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Oscar Wilde, and of course H.G. Wells. How shocked and impressed she would be if she knew that Wells used to hold a room at the bed and breakfast he sometimes stayed at. Or better yet that he had personally met her and had been shot by her.

"Here are your nightclothes."

She tossed him a dark blue shirt and pants lined with white and said "Again I guess on size but just ring the service bell and I'll come."

"Cora, thank you so much for doing this. We don't usually receive such a warm welcome." Said Artie

"It's nothing really Arthur and to tell you the truth, I didn't want to be alone after tonight."

* * *

It was around three a.m. when Cora glided into her room like a ghost without making a single sound. She saw what she wanted, Artie who was out like a light due to Cora tampering with the food she served them. Cora pulled out the dagger she had safely tucked away under her nightgown and came upon the sleeping Warehouse supervisor. It was almost too easy for her. Usually her victims didn't come gift wrapped like this. Most of the time she would have to spend years just looking for the right one, someone who if they died or disappeared under mysterious circumstances wouldn't be missed or their "disappearance" could easily be explained away; she had hit the jackpot! Cora held the dagger close to his face. It would be quick, he wouldn't even wake up. Then the damned doorbell rang causing her to curse.

Cora placed the dagger back under her nightgown and check on her sleeping victim. He didn't even stir at the loud ringing. She heaved a heavy sigh and knew that this little "escapade" would have to set on another time. Meanwhile she would have to deal with the annoyance that had interrupted her venture. She went to the door covering herself with her robe, her nightgown was by no means modest, and checked the peephole to see whom it was.

It was the local sheriff. A very fat, very ugly man who went by the name of Horace Cleavon. In a way, he was of that of a stereotypical fat southern sheriff excluding the deep Southern accent with a Midwestern one. The short man had a scruffy shave and his clothes, which were in the traditional sheriff style, badge and all, looked as though they were going to burst at any second under the strain of his enormous stomach. His skin was a pasty white that could send shivers up one's spine. His hair was light brown and seemed to be pasted onto his fat head. The man's hair jutted out at odd places and almost gave him this lunatic sort of look, which only made all sane people in the room wish that he would leave. His presence made all of those conscious at the time uncomfortable. He seemed to radiate this unpleasant aura that screamed out loud that he was a horrible and an atrocious man.

Cora sighed and opened up the door. This was going to be a long and painful visit.

"Sheriff Cleavon? What on earth do I warrant this visit?"

"Ya look beautiful, uh I'm sorry to bother ya Ms. Sinclair but we got an issue back at the retirement."

"An issue? Is something wrong? Is someone hurt?"

Her voice was filled to the brim with fake worry. She already knew what happened.

"Yes, I'm afraid that Ms. Gunness and Doc Swango were found shot in the lobby of Golden Years."

She put her hand over her mouth and replied, "Oh my, that's horrible; are they okay?"

"We've got them over at St. Raphael, I dunno how long their gonna last but I wanna'd to get your statement and maybe somethin' else…"

He tried to get inside but she blocked him. "Sorry Sheriff but it's far too late right now." She traced over his stomach's strain underneath his shirt "I don't suppose that maybe we could do it tomorrow?"

"I don't suppose that there be something in it for me?" he leered

Cora cringed. The bastard was asking for favors from her? She knew very well that she was leading him on but oh no, he was sick if he thought that she would spread her legs for them.

"Sorry sheriff but I really do need my beauty sleep. Good Night!"

She slammed the door in his face and was beside herself. Morons like Horace Cleavon would one day make her do something she would regret. Her thoughts were shattered as she heard Artie's gentle snoring. She could still carry out her plan but she was drained. Artie was lucky this time but next maybe not.

* * *

Artie had the oddest dream. He dreamed that he and Cora were in the Warehouse and that he was showing her the artifacts. Suddenly he was on the ground and saw a dagger falling towards him, he thought that he was done for but Cora grabbed it an inch before the deadly blade impaled him. She saved his life once more. Cora helped him off the floor and gave him a hug. She didn't speak at all but her just touching him was enough. He wanted to say something to her, to tell her that he was glad he had met her but that was when he woke up and Cora disappeared.

He woke up disappointed and slightly ashamed. He was dreaming of a woman that was over thirty years his junior in her own bed. How utterly pitiful was that? Artie slumped out of her bed, grabbing a robe that she had left for him. He fumbled with his glasses as he put them on and took a look at his watch that lied on the nightstand. It was nearly nine a.m. and he groaned. He had hoped to be at least on the road by this time.

Artie then noticed the faint smell of smoke, there was something burning. As fast as he could with his bad leg and fractured ribs did he run to the kitchen. The kitchen was rather large with a light blue and white color scheme. There was an island and a counter where guests could eat at, and at almost every corner, there seemed to be fresh flowers everywhere. He saw Cora in a white as snow apron putting the flames out to a burnt piece of meat that once had to been bacon.

"Hey good morning!" she greeted him once she was sure that the bacon was no longer going to catch fire.

"Good morning to you too. What's going on?"

She laughed, "What does it look like? I'm making breakfast."

"Breakfast?" he repeated the word as if it was foreign to him

"Yes breakfast, that time in the morning when you eat so you don't go hungry until lunch." She pulled the bacon away from the grill and went to a silver bowl full of batter and chocolate chips.

Artie rubbed the back of his neck and replied "Oh um thank you very much."

"Arthur you don't have to keep thanking me. I like having people over and hey, it's nice to cook for more than one mouth."

"Well is there anything I can do?"

Cora tapped the wooden spoon against her chin "The morning paper should have been delivered by now. Could you please walk out to the driveway and get it for me please?"

Finally, a chance to be useful!

"Sure, I'll be right back."

Artie threw on his well-worn shoes and walked out of the kitchen's door and onto the porch. The porch wrapped around the entire house and as he was outside, he took a moment to admire the morning and its beauty. Thriving quince lined the gray gravel driveway in between oak trees; it was a straight shot from there to the front door. The morning light gleamed as the dew on the yard made it sparkle.

_It wouldn't be too bad waking up and seeing this every morning._ He allowed himself to think. _And it wouldn't be too bad seeing Cora either._

He groaned as that thought sneaked into his brain. What the hell was going on with him? First, he was dreaming about her and now he was thinking about her. He pushed the lovely woman out of his mind and went out to go grab the paper.

When he reached the end of the driveway and picked up the paper, he saw an old sheriff police cruiser best of 1989 driving down the road. Artie found it odd that it was even still in commission, maybe it was antique? Then he saw an ugly man in sheriff's garb driving the car pull into the driveway. The ugly man stopped the car the moment he saw Artie and rolled down the window.

"Who in tarnation are you?"

Oh great questions over his identity; he had to answer this carefully.

"Noneya." He said then began walking away

The ugly man kept the car at his walking speed and asked indignantly at his foreign name

"Noneya? What the hell kinda name is that?"

"None ya business." Smirked Artie as the driveway ended

The very ugly and very stupid man took a good two minutes to figure out the joke. When he finally did, Artie was already on the porch and almost to the kitchen's door.

"HEY!"

Artie was already safely inside the kitchen and with he chuckled happily as he handed the paper to Cora. She just smiled; she had heard Horace's voice and knew that there was going to be quite a show. Horace of course, showed up at the kitchen door banging as if his life depended on it. Cora glanced over to Artie who found a sudden interest in the wainscoting.

"Ms. Cora! Ms. Cora!" He called out

She opened up the door and Horace barreled in.

"Ms. Cora please stand back."

Horace pushed Cora behind him and it looked like he was going to reach for his weapon.

"Mr. Cleavon, I find this very troubling. What is going on here?"

"This her' man gave a false name to a police officer!" he pointed a fat finger to Artie

"And what was that name? asked Cora

"Noneya!"

"Excuse me?"

"I ask'd him and he said "None ya business!"

Cora giggled and walked over to Artie. She got very cozy to him and said "That's just one of our little games. I like to have fun and Arthur is kind enough to indulge me."

"Arthur?"

"That's my name." growled Artie, he was liking this man less and less

Horace pulled up his pants and said "And how do you know Ms. Cora?"

"Didn't I tell you?" asked Cora in a soft innocent voice "Arthur is my boyfriend."

She reached over to Artie and gave him a soft kiss upon his lips. Horace looked as though his entire world came crashing down upon him. When the kiss broke Artie, felt his world spinning. That was spectacular.

"Wh-when did this happen?"

"We've known each other for years but we've only gotten together recently. He's such a good man for me."

She brought Artie into another kiss but Horace exclaimed

"Cora I reckon that you shouldn't be with this her' fella. He's no good for you."

"I think the lady has made her choice." Voiced Artie

Horace pushed Cora out of Artie's embrace and said, "You gave a false name to an officer, I could lock you up for a couple of days."

"And I'm a Federal employee. For a simple push, I could have could have you locked up in a Federal prison for a couple of years."

Horace took a step back and looked to Cora.

"I hope you think twice about who you date."

He slammed the door behind him and when Cora was sure that he was out of earshot, she turned to Artie. He was shocked to see that she had tears in her eyes and was on the verge of crying.

"I am so sorry." she whimpered "I didn't mean to use you like that."

She was barely holding back her tears now.

"Its okay, it's okay."

She shook her head "It's not, I'm so sorry."

Cora was crying now as if she had committed murder "He's been hounding me ever since I moved here. I'm terrified of him."

Artie moved her to a seat at the counter and grabbed a tissue box.

"Why don't you move? Get away from here?"

She shook her head again "I sunk all my money moving into this place. I don't have anything left."

Cora's body shook with her sobs "Arthur I don't know what to do."

It was just a moment's decision for him and down the road, it would cost him.

"Cora where do you want to live?" he asked quickly

She wiped away a tear "What?"

"Where do you want to live? What kinda town?"

"Why do you-"

"It doesn't matter, just answer."

She paused a moment and replied "A small town would be nice, I guess. I just want to live in peace."

"Cora I know of a small town in South Dakota. It's virtually off the map, you would hardly be bothered."

She put her hands over her mouth. "Really? Arthur you're not playing me, are you?"

The sheer desperation in her voice was alarming. "No, no this isn't a joke. I am serious about this. I know of a place that you can stay for free and you can even get a job there too."

"Really?"

"Yes, I-I'll have to talk to my boss of course but I-I think I can make it work." He scratched his beard in thought. He would be leaping through hoops for her but Cora had potential. He could see it; she had bravery, instinct and apparently from her reading selections she held a great penchant for history. Mrs. Frederic would be popping up behind her to offer her a ticket to endless wonder by the end of the week. His thoughts were broken when he heard quite sniffling.

Cora had a new stream of tears going down her lovely face.

"Ar-Are you okay?"

"No one has ever been this nice to me."

From her chair at the counter, she leaned over and hugged him. He sat still in her embrace slightly shocked from it but returned it. He would come through for her; he had too. Neither Artie nor Cora noticed the two young agents standing in the archway. They were still in their pajamas and awoke when they heard a voice yelling out "Cora." Pete coughed to get their attention. Cora and Artie broke their embrace and pretended as if it never happened.

"Are we interrupting something?" asked Myka

"No, um Cora made us breakfast." Muttered Artie, "Cora excuse me, I-I think I forgot something in my-your room."

Artie limped away to Cora's bedroom to regain his composure. How embarrassing for him to be caught hugging her in front of Pete and Myka. He would never hear the end of this. What was he thinking? Going to the Regents and demand that they make her an agent? His opinion did carry some weight but decisions like that were not made over night. They would put her through rigorous screening to make sure she wasn't a Nietzsche wannabe. He now regretted letting her even aware of Univille's vague location. Meanwhile Cora was setting out plates, clearing tears, and pretending as if nothing had happened.

"Cora are you okay?" asked Pete

"I am now…feel free to help yourself to whatever you need."

She gasped softly seeing that she had laid out four plates instead of three. Cora grabbed the fourth plate and filled it with every healthy item she had made.

"I'll be right back."

Cora took the plate and herself to her room. She knocked quietly and whispered "Arthur? Are you decent?"

"Yes."

She came in and saw him wearing the same clothes from the night before. He was packing up his things as fast as possible.

"You should slow down. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

He mumbled something obscured as he put on his jacket.

"Sorry about embarrassing you in front of Pete and Myka."

"You didn't." he replied hurriedly "They're just gonna be highly annoying on the way home."

She chuckled "Well then I'm sorry for the flak that you're going to be getting."

The voice sounded so sweet and light, any crap he would be dealing with was totally worth it.

"I brought you something."

She put the plate down on the nightstand and beamed. His mind was changed permanently. Cora Sinclair would be an agent, that he knew.

"Cora when I get back to my….job, I'm going to get started on the "paperwork" to have you moved there."

Cora laughed and threw him into a hug again. He was more than happy to return it; at least this time they were away from prying eyes.

Sinclair's Note: Looks like I've got Arthur wrapped around my little finger. He's going to get me into the Warehouse. Please PM or leave a review. The next chapter will be up in two days, be patient.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: If you thought I was manipulative in the old version of "Black Widow" then you haven't seen anything yet. I'm just getting started.

It was around five p.m. when they had to leave Cora's house. The Warehouse agents had finished breakfast long ago but they had grown attached to the young woman's company. She was charming and like a breath of fresh air to them. In the short time that all four of them had known her, they had become close friends. Cora and Artie had become especially close and Pete and Myka noticed. It was just a few things; the way she called him "Arthur" instead of Artie, how she always doted on him, and during lunch, Cora placed her hand on his knee as he made her laugh. It wasn't anything conclusive but it was enough to raise eyebrows.

Saying goodbye was quite hard on all of them. Cora was heartbroken that they had to leave but knew that their mysterious job required it. Pete and Myka had said goodbye to Cora before they had packed their things from the hotel and left, Artie decided to stay behind just a little bit longer to make sure that she would be all right. He stayed for an hour and they talked about frivolous things.

Cora seemed uneasy about being left alone again and Artie understood but he could not stay away from the Warehouse any longer. While they were on the porch delaying their goodbye as long as possible Horace Cleavon's car circled around the estate twice, forcing Cora back inside with faux fear. Her chest was heaving as she mocked the oncoming symptoms of fear and crying.

"You can't leave." She whimpered, "He'll come back."

"Cora I'm sorry but I can't be away-"

"I know Arthur, I know…"

She fabricated weeping and moans. Her little performance was excellent by every theatrical standard. Which it was no surprise that Artie was completely fooled; he couldn't just leave her alone to face that brute. Therefore, he did what little he could do, on a piece of scrap paper he quickly wrote down his cell phone number. He had been given one by Claudia who was trying to pull him into the 21st century with pitiful results. Artie had never used it, feeling more comfortable with using his Farnsworth but now he was glad he had it.

"Here Cora." He gave her the piece of paper

"What's this?"

"It's my private phone number; I can't be here but at the first sign of trouble just pick up the phone and give me a call. I will come running."

"You really shouldn't in your condition." She said referencing his fractured ribs

"Cora don't worry about me, you've done so much for my team and I; it's the least I can do."

Cora thanked him and promised Artie that the minute she was in trouble she would call. That being said the two said their final goodbyes and Artie left for the Warehouse, hoping that Cora would be all right.

Artie arrived at Warehouse 13 around four in the morning. It was good to see the place again. The old rusted building might not have looked like the most welcoming place on earth but for the select few who were granted entry into it knew that Warehouse 13 was probably one of the few places where an agent could feel like home. Artie parked his car right outside and entered the warehouse. He didn't see Pete's SUV; he assumed that Pete and Myka were back at Leena's relaxing; hopefully after taking care of the artifact.

He walked carefully past the bombs that had once claimed his life; he had been understandably a little gun shy of them after that. Artie opened the door with its classic hiss and saw his office, still in the same condition he had left it; a mess. He sat in his chair finally relaxing since Cora's house when he thought that it might be wise to check to make sure that the Kevorkian painting actually made it onto one of the Warehouse shelves.

As he was busying typing away he didn't see a sleepy redheaded teen come lurking down from his bedroom upstairs. It was Claudia; she had fallen asleep waiting for him to return from Texas ever since he decided that it would better if he was with Pete and Myka. Seeing him in his own little world and feeling just a little pissed that he hadn't bothered to tell her where he was going, she thought that it was time for a little revenge.

She snuck up behind him moving carefully through the office. Claudia got right behind him and shouted

"ARTIE!"

The old man gasped in fright and turned around and shouted

"What is wrong with you?!"

Claudia smirked

"Oh nothing besides some recent abandonment issues."

He groaned. In his rush to get down to Sinton he had forgotten to leave a note about where he was going and now he was catching hell for it.

"Look Claudia, I'm sorry about that. I thought I-"

"Can it Artie, I want to know what happened on the mission."

"Now's really not the best time."

"Artie…" she was persistent

"No not now, later okay."

Claudia was not the giving up type. She knew what was going on at the retirement home and with Artie being at just the right age….she had a good reason to be worried.

"Artie seriously!"

He stood up and said "Claudia not n-"

Artie gasped as if he had been sucker punched. His hand went to his side as he doubled over in pain. He had gotten up too fast for his own good. Cora had specifically told him to take it easy and when he got back to go to a hospital to make sure that he hadn't done any serious damage. Going to the hospital had been low on his to do list, first he had to take care of the artifact, then talk to Mrs. Frederic about getting Cora into the Warehouse, and then maybe a trip to a hospital.

"Artie?"

Claudia was scared. She wasn't too sure what to do. Artie was in pain, that much she knew, but what to do about the pain?

"Artie?" she asked again when he only answered with a moan

"I'm fine." He rasped "Just, just a little winded."

Artie regained his strength, taking in slow deep breaths. He sat back down on his chair, his eyes still closed to ignore his pain.

"Artie what happened?"

He glanced and saw that he had scared the teenager very badly.

"What do you know?"

"The artifact was a Kevorkian painting, and there was a fight. Myka and Pete didn't really go into details; they were tired."

The older man nodded. It was understandable they had been through a lot and the drive couldn't have been easy.

"While searching for the artifact we had a little hostage situation. A woman, Mary-Anne, had me on the floor threatening to use the artifact on me if her demands weren't met. Pete and Myka-"

"You nearly DIED?!"

Oh crap, maybe he could've worded that better….

"Died is a very strong word, I prefer the term nearly passed away. I think it sounds just a little bit gentler."

Claudia stared at him in disbelief.

"Why didn't you call?"

Her voice was small and timid. He knew that joking was not going to alleviate her fears.

"We met a woman, she was very kind and very polite; a true lady." Artie paused as his mind wandered off to thoughts of the beautiful Cora. All alone in that big house of her's, with no one to keep her company at night. How lonely she must be right now. "And well…time sort of slipped away from us."

"You were too busy with a woman to check in on us?" her eyebrows raised incredulity

"It's not like that! We had business to discuss and by the time we were done, it was late. So we stayed the night at her house. The next morning when we woke up she made us breakfast and she told me that it would be better if we stayed put for a few hours to make sure that I hadn't done any more damage to my ribs."

"What's wrong with your ribs?"

He waved his hand and said "Two of them are fractured but Cora was kind enough to patch me up."

"Cora?"

"That's the woman's name."

Artie caught sight of Claudia. She was still upset with him but at least it his explanation of things seemed to calm her down a bit.

"Happy now?" he asked

Claudia sighed and muttered "Yeah."

"Good now, help me up."

She helped him up and he groaned again. He really should listen to Cora's advice.

"You're gonna be okay, right Artie?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I just need to take it easy for a couple of weeks. Now it's-"he glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost five "Late, why don't we go to bed before the world gets in danger again?"

They had all slept in again. Not on purpose of course, Leena had seen everyone come in either late or the break of dawn. She thought that it would be better if everyone had at least six hours of sleep before heading into the Warehouse and handling artifacts. Though her intent was well meaning, Artie was up after an hour or two of sleep. If he was going to get Cora into the Warehouse, he needed to contact Mrs. Frederic as soon as possible.

Exactly at eight a.m. did the X-File wrapped up in a cover up, deep fried in a conspiracy served up as an enigma and called Mrs. Frederic appeared at the B&B. She was a stern looking woman with a beehive hairdo who could pierce your soul just by looking at you. Mrs. Frederic was not a woman to be taken lightly.

"Arthur." She greeted with a ghost of a smile "I heard about your little adventure in Sinton, good to have you back in one piece."

"Thank you. I've found another agent for the Warehouse."

"This wouldn't happen to by a Ms. Sinclair, would it?"

Artie had learned long ago to not be surprised when Mrs. Frederic knew of important pieces of information before he told her.

"Yes it would, how do you-"

"Know? We're always looking for potential agents. Ms. Sinclair has popped up on our radar more than once."

"I think that she would make an excellent agent. She's intelligent, knows how to fight, she's-"

"She has all the qualities that we look for Arthur but I'm afraid that we won't be able to accept her."

"Why not?"

"Follow me."

Artie followed Mrs. Frederic outside to her car. He saw her bodyguard open the door for them and gave Artie a glare. Artie didn't think too much of it, all of her bodyguards seemed to hate him. He sat next to her inside the car while she gave the order to have her bodyguard to drive. When they were well in motion, Mrs. Frederic pulled out a rather large file and handed it to him. He flipped it open and saw a detailed report on the Golden Years retirement home.

"An investigation has been opened on the Golden Years retirement home."

Artie flipped through the first few pages and his eyes grew in shock. Shallow grave upon shallow grave, bodies were stacked on each other. Some were fresh still intact while others were highly decomposed with only skeletal remains left. It looked like someone took a note out of a Nazi manual.

"What the hell is this?" he asked quietly

"A mass grave behind the Burns Crematorium near Golden Years, we've found ashes too. It seems Mary-Anne had a more devious plan to dispose of her guests."

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Pictures of this mass grave were spread by the media exactly at six this morning, followed by the staff photos of those who the local police suspected."

The next page of the report showed staff photos of Cora, Mary-Anne, Bell, and Swango.

"A riot soon broke out as the story went out on the air. The police took Bell, Swango, and Mary-Anne into protective custody but Cora somehow managed to escape. We're presuming that she's in hiding. We were going to collect Ms. Sinclair after this artifact retrivial but with the riot and new exposure it's too hard to make her an agent. We can't make a mass murder go away…"

"Do we have any idea where?"

Mrs. Frederic shook her head.

"We suspect that she's staying with a friend or possibly-"

Mrs. Frederic was cut off as a crappy version of "In the Hall of the Mountain King" played. Artie fumbled with the cell, accidently putting it on speakerphone, and answered

"Hello?"

"Arthur!"

It was Cora's sweet bell like voice. His heart grew light just hearing her.

"Cora? Where are you? Are you okay?"

She was crying on the other end.

"Arthur they think I'm a murderer! They torched my house! I barely escaped with my life."

"They burnt your house down? Were you injured?"

"Yes, I'm fine though just really scared. Arthur I really need you."

Cora was terrified, he could hear it in her voice.

"Ms. Sinclair, please calm down. I assure you that we're doing all we can to get you out of there safely. Please tell me where you are."

"Arthur? Who is that?"

"Her name is Mrs. Frederic; she's one of my bosses. Cora we're trying to get you here, just calm down, okay? Where are you?"

"I'm-I'm at Horace Cleavon's house."

"WHAT?!"

Her sobs grew louder "Please don't be mad at me Arthur; I didn't have a choice. He threatened to turn me in to the mob if I didn't go with him."

"I-I-I'm not mad Cora." And he wasn't but the idea of her being anywhere near that jerk, let alone in his house was enough to make him want to punch the S.O.B. "Are you okay though? He hasn't messed with you, has he?"

"No. I've locked myself in bathroom. Arthur I'm scared; where are you?"

"I'm in South Dakota, Cora listen to this carefully just stay where you are and I will have agents down in Sinton before you know it."

"Arthur aren't you coming?"

Mrs. Frederic put a hand on Artie's shoulder and simply shook her head no.

"I'm afraid that Artie won't be able coming, Ms. Sinclair."

"But Arthur you promised! I-AAAAHHH!"

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the car as did Cora's screams. Artie held the phone tightly in his hand as if his life depended on it.

"Cora? Cora? What happened? Are you okay?"

There was just Cora's screams and men shouting.

"ARTHUR!" she screamed and then the line went dead

"CORA?!"

Artie tried recalling the number but he got nothing. The phone Cora had been on was either destroyed or had been tossed away. Artie breathed heavily as he tried in vain to contact her again. He didn't want to believe what had most likely happened. The mob had found her and were doing God knows what to her.

"Arthur please hold yourself together. I'm sending the Regents after her."

"Why did you say that?" he asked bitterly

"You're hurt Artie; what good will it do for any one if you can't even run or breathe?"

She was right; she was usually always right.

Mrs. Frederic took Artie to the hospital, something that he suspected that she had planned since he had gotten into her car. She kept him posted on how two unnamed Regents were doing in tracking down Cora. Artie wasn't too optimistic and Cora's screams of terror rang in his ears. She had been so scared and when she learned that he couldn't make it, it sounded as if any hope she had left was gone. The doctors treated his fractured ribs and Cora had been right. All he needed was to rest for a few weeks and he would be fine. Mrs. Frederic alerted him that two of the Regents had made it to Sinton and it wasn't good.

Cora's house was burnt down and Horace's had been ransacked. There was no sign of Cora at all; and to make matters worse Mary-Anne was now spreading lies about Cora Sinclair to the reporters and anyone who would listen to her. She told in great detail how she was the one who picked out the victims and had thrills planning their deaths and picking out their graves. The media ate it up and people were now saying that Cora was the next Ted Bundy.

They had nicknamed her "Black Widow".

When Artie arrived back at the Bed and Breakfast, he heard the television playing. He shuffled his feet and heard what was playing.

"_The small town of Sinton doesn't see anything very exciting but this morning police opened an investigation on Golden Years retirement and old age home after finding leading Doctor George Swango and title holder Mary-Anne Gunness shot inside. Mary-Anne and Doctor Swango gave a full detailed confession to the local police handling the matter and have given multiple interviews claiming that one, Cora Sinclair, was the one that actually picked out the victims and let Mary-Anne and Dr. Swango handle the murder of the residents. Soon after the interview went out a rabble of angry citizens went out to deal out justice."_

He saw Pete and Myka watching television, staring in horror, as a film showing Cora's house burning to the ground played. The footage then cut to a mob of rioters rushing through the streets destroying everything they got their hands on. The mob was shouting out Cora's name in anger and some were holding torches.

"Artie are you seeing this?" asked Pete in outrage

"I know, I know."

He didn't want to know though. The mere possibility that Cora was probably dead somewhere was too much to bear.

"Pete, Myka I have some bad news regarding Cora."

The two younger agents paid close attention to Artie's words. If he had bad news then usually it was terrible news and couldn't be fixed.

"Judging by the TV I guess you already know that Cora's house has been destroyed and we believe that she has been taken by the rioters." He said somberly

"What?" asked Pete

"When did this happen?" questioned Myka

"Early this morning."

Myka and Pete looked at each other and Myka asked the question that was on everyone's mind but no one wanted to ask.

"Is she still alive?"

Artie sighed heavily "Probably not, odds are that she's dead or…"

Was there really any other option than dead? If she was lucky then no; hopefully her death was a quick and painless and she didn't suffer. However, really what were the odds that Cora wasn't half-dead in ditch somewhere or worse? Guilt settled in for a long stay. She had called for him, cried for him to come rushing to her aid and to save her; and he couldn't. Granted that breathing deeply hurt and he couldn't run but guilt wormed its way into his mind and heart regardless. Why, oh why, did he make promises he couldn't possibly keep?

"Dead." Finished Pete "So what do we do?"

Artie ran his stubby fingers through his greying hair.

"Nothing; its over."

"It's over?" gasped Myka. She was surprised how fast Artie was willing to forget about the young wonderful woman who had graced their lives only two days ago. "What about her family? Have they been notified or-"

"No and they won't be." Artie gave them the report that Mrs. Frederic and the Regents had complied over Golden Years. "Cora's family was killed in a plane crash when she was five. She lived in an orphanage until she was eighteen."

He sighed and continued.

"Cora was going to become a Warehouse agent but after the news went out and Mary-Anne practically poisoned the world against Cora, the Regents have ultimately decided against it."

"They just let Cora face a mob without any help?" growled Pete

"No, the Regents attempted to get her out of Sinton but the rioters got to her first."

"And now she's dead." Whispered Myka

"yeah." Muttered Artie in agreement

"What do we do now?" asked Pete

Artie shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to do.

"There's nothing to do. Just move on with our lives."

"Just go on? And what pretend that none of this ever happened?"

"No Myka, don't pretend that this never happened; let this be a lesson: Never develop an emotional bond with anyone outside the Warehouse."

"That's a pretty sucky lesson, Artie." Replied Pete bitterly

"But a true one." He left the younger agents to their own devices while he went upstairs to the guest room to work on Warehouse research.

In reality however, he wasn't doing research or work of any kind. How could he? A lovely young woman had been slaughtered by a mob for a crime she hadn't committed. Artie was mourning Cora's just as much, perhaps even more, than Pete and Myka were. He knew that he was being silly getting so worked up over Cora but he couldn't help it. He had liked her and the thought that she too could become a Warehouse agent made him happy, now that was never going to happen.

What a waste.

For the next few weeks, a sort of gloom settled in over the Bed and Breakfast along with the Warehouse. Neither Artie, Pete, nor Myka were themselves; Cora's death was still fresh on their minds. All they could think about was how Cora had died, how alone she must have felt when death took her. Leena, Jinks, and Claudia were worried about them and tried to get them to talk but it was difficult because they had never known Cora. They didn't understand how important she was, how wonderful she was, the only people they could talk about Cora to was each other.

So it was on a dreary morning in late May that Artie found both Pete and Myka outside near the veranda. Myka was holding a small bouquet of lilies while Pete repeated a small verse from a bible he was holding. The two agents were standing in front of a simple but elegant grave marker. Artie saw that it read "_In loving memory of Cora Sinclair, 1984-2012"_

"What are you doing?" he asked though he could take a guess

"Myks and I got to thinking that since the police haven't found a body yet, that we…"

"bury her; give her some peace." Finished Myka as she laid down the lilies

Artie nodded in agreement as they walked away. He sighed at the gravestone. It wasn't fair, she hadn't done anything and she had died because of it. To the day he would die, Artie swore that he would curse Mary-Anne for spreading those lies that ultimately led to Cora's death.

"מייַ איר מנוחה אין שלום אויף אייביק קאָראַ. זייַ געזונט"

And he left, not being able to look at Cora's name etched into the stone any longer.

Sinclair's Note: Oh poor Arthur. He's all broken up about me.


	8. Chapter 8

Sinclair's Note: Hello dear readers, terribly sorry for not updating on our usual time, I had a million and one things to do yesterday. Anyway to answer a question from Chinagirl18, and by the way I loved your review it's nice to get questions, I got the name Cora from the Greek Goddess Persephone who was sometimes referred to as Cora. I got the name Sinclair from one of my favorite heavy romance novels "Undead and Unwed" which I highly recommend reading if you're into the cool vampires, zombies, and devils being buddies and having romance issues.

Things never seemed to change in Univille. It was as if the town was stuck in a time loop. Some old people, same old homes, and the same old main street, that is until one foggy morning. It happened literally overnight. Between two vacant buildings stood the newly opened "Anastasia's Treasures and Tomes; New, Old, and the Remarkably Rare!" The letters were painted in a shimmering gold while a cool grey tarp hung over the entire front of the store. A little black sign stood in the window displayed right next to the latest books and the cherry oak door politely told the hours of operation. A steady stream of customers was already flowing out as gossip mounted to the ever-mysterious owner.

It would be Artie who would be the first to meet Anastasia. Pete had spilled milk over an ancient Chinese mythology book and had effectively ruined it. Artie had bought the book over thirty years ago on a mission, which during said mission saved his life. The book was no longer in print and the author had died before the book was ever released to the public. So Artie was now faced with the difficult task of finding a replacement. He and Leena were at the Warehouse. She was cleaning the milk from the tattered rug while he was mourning the loss of his book.

"Why not try the new bookstore?" suggested Leena

Artie looked at Leena as if she had proposed cutting his head off was a viable solution.

"No, no, no! This isn't some gushy teen novel; this is a highly rare…."

She had stopped listening to his rant and rolled her eyes. He could be so dramatic sometimes.

"Artie it couldn't hurt to check over there first before racing off to China."

He stopped talking. Leena had cut him off before he could really get into the indignation of traveling to the local bookstore for such a unique book; he seemed slightly disappointed.

"But-"he began

"I don't care. Go check the bookstore first and besides" she cast a glance down to his paunch "You could use the exercise."

Leena left the Warehouse before he had a chance to rebut. He hated how easily she could manipulate him. Therefore, after assigning Claudia and Jinks to Inventory and doing a quick check-up on Pete and Myka, he left for the bookstore.

He stood outside the shop silently grumbling to himself over Leena's unnatural ability to get him to do anything he did not want to do. The golden letters seemed to mock him as he went in.

"Remarkably rare" he scoffed, there was probably nothing in there from the 19th century let alone the Chinese mythology book he needed from the 13th century. Artie sidestepped the ecstatic people who were buzzing over their new purchases.

The inside of Anastasia's bookstore had brown and gold paneled walls. The ceiling tiles were intricate illustrations of classic literature. They were beautifully painted and seemed to pop out of the ceiling. Artie recognized a few of the paintings; Virgil showing Dante the murders in hell, Odysseus meeting the Circe the Sorceress, and Arthur lifting out the Sword out of the Stone. Some of the customers were gawking and those who weren't were busy searching the shelves for their next best read. A cheery oak counter with a display case flanked the door and an antique register stood upon it.

A teenager with more piercings than holes he had to put them sat behind the counter. He was tall, thin, and had pale skin, apparently he had never heard of the word "sun". His greasy black hair shined in the lights and he easily stood out with his shocking black clothing. A flock of young girls were giggling by him and giving him bedroom eyes. Artie made a mental note to keep Claudia as far away from this store as humanly possible. When he approached the counter, the young girls fled causing the clerk to glare evilly at Artie as he was asked, "Do you have any Chinese mythology books by Hu Zhou?"

"What do I look like a help desk? I just run the register." Growled the bitter teen

Artie chose to ignore the hanging sign above the desk that read in nice bold letters "Help/Register"

"Look here" Artie paused a moment to readjust his glasses to get a better look at the kid's nametag. "Rick?"

The teen quickly took off his nametag and said in a dark voice, "My real name is Deathcrow Neversmiles."

"And I'm sure that's doing wonders for you social life; could you please check to see if you have the book?"

Piercing boy groaned as he got up from behind the counter and went to the computer. He choppily typed away then turned back to Artie.

"Sorry man," he snickered "But we're fresh out."

"Could I please check? I'm sure that you just misspelled his name."

Rick or better known by his fangirls as "Deathcrow Neversmiles" growled.

"Hey old man put your hearing aid in and listen to this, I don't care."

"Where's your boss? I think I'd like to talk to him."

"For your information my boss is a chick and she ain't here. Why don't you go back to the old folk's home for some mushed up apricots?" he slurred

What Artie would have given just to pull out his Tesla right there and then and give that punk a nice little jolt.

"Excuse me," spoke a voice as clear as a bell

Artie saw the clerk freeze up but only for a moment.

"Hey Anya! Look…um, this old guy here is causing some trouble, can we ban him here?"

He turned around to defend himself from the false accusations to the boy's boss, Anya, when he gasped. Rick's boss, "Anya", was a dead ringer for Cora. Artie thought that maybe for a moment his eyes had failed him but there could be no doubt that a woman of Cora's elegance and splendor could ever be duplicated. There were some differences though; her hair was no longer dark brown that fell delicately onto her shoulders but flame red hair that was akin to Claudia's and tied back in a flowing low hanging ponytail with a light yellow ribbon. Cora's lovely brown eyes were now an equally beautiful shade of blue that was a dark as the ocean on a warm summer's day.

"C-C-Cora?"

"Hello Arthur." She smiled, tears were swelling up

She looked as lovely as ever. He couldn't believe that she was alive much less that she was here in Univille of all places. It had to be a trick of some sort; she was dead.

"You know this guy?" questioned Piercing Boy

Cora or Anya nodded quickly as she wiped away a tear.

"Y-yes, um we briefly knew each other but we lost contact for a while. Now, w-w-what's the problem here?"

"Yeah," began the angsty teen "He's scared away a couple of customers" as he referred to his groupies.

Cora merely smiled graciously and replied "Oh well easy come, easy go. Arthur, we must catch up."

"Aren't you gonna ban him?"

"What? No never, Arthur is a dear family friend. I could never kick him out of here, by the way anyone affiliated with Arthur gets the family prices."

"But Anya!"

"No Buts! Now if you will excuse me Arthur and I have a lot of catching up to do we'll be in my apartment, and I will have a chat with you later about your atrocious behavior of late. "

Piercing Boy stood dumbfounded as Anya led Artie to the back of the store and upstairs to her private quarters.

The stairs creaked as Artie followed Anya/Cora up. He couldn't believe that she was alive and in Univille. It was like a dream come true; Cora alive and well. They came upon a landing and she opened a door that looked as though it might disintegrate with the slightest touch. Admittedly, he was a little worried following her into her room but he needed to know how she was here and not six feet under.

"Come on." She said gleefully

Cora/Anya practically hurled him into her apartment and quickly closed the door. They were finally alone. Anya/Cora's apartment was very nice and decorated in the best of taste. It looked as though it might have cost her a small fortune. She brushed past him and went into the kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink? Tea, soda, something minty perhaps?"

"Tea will be fine." He muttered still examining her wondrous home but he was getting off track.

"Cora, I need to know."

"Know what?" she asked innocently

"How are you alive?" he asked gently, "How are you even here?"

Cora brought over the tea and sat down next to him on the sofa. She seemed keen on not answering the question.

"Cora, please…I just need to know." He put his hand on her's, which gave her strength to answer.

"Oh Arthur, I would tell you in a heartbeat but I can't."

"Please?" he begged

His brown eyes were big and sad. Artie squeezed her hand just a little bit and Cora replied with a sigh in defeat,

"Arthur? How do you feel about embelzement?"

Artie's face went blank and he asked "What?"

"I may have stolen some money from Swango…"

"K…h-h-how?" he stuttered

"It seems that Swango set up his bank account with me as a joint-"

"Why!?" he shouted

Artie was bewildered. Cora wasn't the kind of woman to talk to a jerk like Swango let alone set up a bank account with him. Cora was taken aback by his tone and said

"W-Well, I-I-I didn't um…"

"I-I mean why would you?"

_Smooth recovery _he thought to himself

"Swango had opened it up a couple of months before the killings with the plan to marry me and…you know."

"Oh." He relaxed as did Cora, "So you never intended to-"

"Oh good God no; serial killers aren't really my type."

Artie laughed nervously "G-Good to know, so-so how did you find here?"

"Don't laugh but um…I google'd this place."

"You googled?"

"Yes, I knew that you lived in a small town and I figured that whatever…business you were in with the painting that you must have some place to store it. Of all the towns that came up

Artie knew that it would be months maybe even years before the general public forgot about the dazzling woman the world had named "Black Widow" but it was worth it. He had Cora now, safe and sound. There was no reason to rush things.

"Cora? I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About not being there for you, about not being able to help you, and-"

She kissed him softly on his right cheek.

"It's okay; I understand. Why don't we talk about happier things? How are Pete and Myka?"

"They're doing okay. Your death really put them down."

Cora gasped and put her hand over her mouth.

"I'm so sorry."

Artie let out a small chuckle "Last weekend they went out and bought a small grave marker for you."

"Oh, they did?"

"We thought the mob got you and with no body…we thought that it was proper to have at least something for you."

At this, Cora threw both arms around him. He gladly accepted it; after losing her and now getting her back, he was happy to feel her again.

"That is so sweet; nobody has ever done anything like that for me."

"Well we thought you were dead and we liked you. You're a friend and, you know, we want you to be happy." He shrugged lamely

"How about to celebrate me coming back from the dead you and I go out to lunch."

"Lunch? Oh no, I couldn't; see my job and I need to-"

She placed her hand on to his and pouted

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun; just you and me." She winked at him. It was then that he noticed how pretty her eyes looked, they seemed to glow. Oh, how tempted he was to take her up on her offer but his sense of duty came before he could agree.

"I can't." Artie groaned "But em, rain check?"

Cora's eyes were sparkling now. "Tonight? I know this great place just outside of here, very nice."

His sense of duty was taken over and he quickly replied "I would love to, what time?"

"Seven? It that works for you?"

"It does, I'll pick you up."

Cora beamed "Excellent, I can't wait!"

Therefore, it was set, Artie had a date with a with a Black Widow.

Cora watched from her living room window as Artie left her store. He turned back to her and waved before finally leaving. She sighed contently; things were going her way now. She had set up shop in a nice little town, she had a new name, Artie was infatuated with her, and her life was getting back on track. Though she had to admit, she disliked the fact that she still lived alone. Cora was too paranoid to get a roommate and she knew it would be some time before she could convince Artie to let her move in with him.

"Are you going to stand there quietly and haunt me like a ghost or are you going to say something?"

Cora turned around to see if her ghost, an African American woman with her hair up in a bee-hive hairdo and wearing a pink suit, would introduce herself. The woman was stern looking and the bodyguard standing firmly behind her looked like he could kill with the flick of his wrist.

"Hello." Cora greeted with a small wave.

"Good afternoon."

"How did you get in here?" she asked politely

"Through the front door." Quipped the mysterious woman

"Hmmm, won't you have seat, Ms?" she showed her hand to the couch

The woman shook her head "Mrs. Frederic and I prefer to stand thank you."

"To each his own I suppose, now who are you with and why are you here?" she asked still keeping her manners

"I'm with the government. I'm here on a matter of national security."

"Why does that make me feel uneasy?" sighed Anastasia

"Because you're not in control Ms. Sinclair."

Anastasia scoffed "Could have sworn that I asked you to call me by my new name; so you know who I am, you know what I have been accused of…what else do you know?"

"I know that while in Texas you developed some sort of relationship with Artie."

"My relationship with Arthur is none of your business and as for his job…well I hardly see why it matters to you."

"I'm his superior."

"You don't say? Hmm well welcome to my humble abode then, may I offer you anything to drink?"

"No. As I said before I'm here on a matter of national security regarding you and Artie."

Anastasia remained quiet and let Mrs. Frederic go on.

"There are people, strong, powerful people, who are watching Artie and everything that he does. I am here to tell you that it would be unwise to have any ulterior motives for plucking his heartstrings."

"Oh?"

"Yes, oh; consider this your first and final warning, do not mess with Arthur."

Sinclair's Note: You dear readers didn't think that it would be that easy getting rid of me, did you? Oh no, I just needed to get Arthur nice and ready for him to fall for me when I returned and now we have a date set up. However, that pesky Mrs. Frederic has made things clear that it I need to tip-toe carefully when playing with my new toy.


End file.
